


Soldier's Solstice

by hellostarlight20



Series: Nine x Rose [52]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Beach Romance, Beaches, F/M, Nine as human, Romance, Rose as alien, Soldiers, warriors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 20:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11882511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/pseuds/hellostarlight20
Summary: One upon a time, the Doctor could talk for England. That time has passed, and now he isn’t much for conversation. He retired to a small cottage on the Welsh coast. He rescued a dog and named her Idris. He had no contact with the rest of his family. His plan was to stay there, with minimal contact with the outside world, and heal. And then the single-person space pod crashed to his beach during his pre-dawn run. So much for his quiet life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [Mrs. Bertucci](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsbertucci/pseuds/mrsbertucci) for your invaluable services as beta extraordinaire!
> 
> This entire story is based [on a manip](https://rose--nebula.deviantart.com/art/Stranded-with-You-699398314) by the lovely [rose--nebula](https://rose--nebula.tumblr.com/).

The Doctor blinked up at the sky. He chose Southwest Wales to retire because it offered the longest commute from London or Manchester and 99% of his remaining friends and family refused to drive to Wales: _For the love of God—why Wales? And where in God’s name is Carmarthen Bay?_

He chose Wales because nothing ever happened here. Nothing. Been here three years and the most excitement was when one of the local girls ran off with an older girl from Swansea. Caused quite the stir and, every once in a while, he still heard murmurings about it. Shame, he thought both lasses were very nice and made quite the couple.

Not that anyone ever asked him.

When he decided to adopt the stray dog wandering the streets of the hamlet, half-starved of food and attention, that caused almost as big a stir, but the Doctor ignored that, too.

In those three years and the thirty-three before that, he’d never seen an object fall from the sky. Well, bombs and missiles, yes, but this wasn’t either of those. The object was something else entirely and no matter how his mind tried to fill in the word, the Doctor refused to believe it.

The Doctor raced along the frigid beach, wind slapping his face, his heart pumping harder than it had the entire time he’d been on the bay. He kicked up sand behind him, his running sneakers giving great traction but nothing was made for running on a wet, cold Welsh beach at half four in the morning.

Idris, his mongrel dog, raced alongside him, pleased as could be to expend such energy.

About a mile from his cottage, they found it. No matter how he tried telling himself the falling object was probably space junk or a meteor that hadn’t managed to burn itself up, he knew better. The Doctor hid away in his cottage, but he hadn’t always hidden from the world.

Skidding to a stop beside the long black cylinder, he braced his hands on his knees and gasped for breath. “Christ, it’s been a while since I’ve run like that.”

Idris barked happily and strained at her lead. Giving the leather a sharp tug, he straightened and cautiously approached the—well, spacecraft, but he wasn’t ready to go there yet. Object. He’d call it an object.

“Idris, sit!” She did as commanded, but clearly wasn’t happy about that. She whined and whimpered, and leaned as far forward as possible, sniffing at the cylindrical object.

The Doctor looked up and down the beach, but even the cockle fishermen and beach day-trippers hadn’t ventured out quite yet. The quiet, foggy length of coastline lay deserted in the hour before the sun rose.

“I’m going to regret this,” he told his dog and closed the distance between where he stopped and where the single-person spaceship crashed. That’s all it could be and 'object' didn’t fit the obviousness of the situation. “Let’s hope they’re not Lilliputians, eh, Idris?”

She only looked at him with her big unblinking brown eyes, then turned back to the ship and whimpered again.

“No appreciation,” he grumbled.

Dropping the lead and running his hands over the smooth exterior of the ship, he searched for... _anything_. A mechanism to open it, a computer he could coerce into opening it, anything. But the exterior was smooth and cold.

Stepping back, the Doctor picked up Idris’s lead and frowned. “Can’t open it, don’t even see a seam to pry it open.”

Idris barked. She didn’t back away but stretched forward, her coat sandy, ears flat, but her tail wagging as if her best friend lay locked in the ship. The Doctor let her go; there was nothing else to do, he couldn’t open it and didn’t fancy blowing it apart. Not that he had the tools to do so.

Not anymore.

With a hydraulic hiss that sounded both familiar and definitely alien, the cylinder opened. Naturally it opened toward him. His heart skipped at the sight and the Doctor didn’t know whether to run back down the beach or ready for battle. Idris barked and he clicked his tongue. Okay, so calm here, braced for a fight, he and Idris rounded the thing.

Standing two arm’s lengths from the opening, weaponless, alone, he peered inside.

A woman, pale, blonde, seemingly asleep or in an induced sleep, lay inside. She looked relax, and he’d have been fooled if it weren’t for her heavy chainmail armor and fitted black breastplate. He couldn’t see clearly, since she hadn’t moved, but it also looked as if a pair of swords crisscrossed her back and bracketed her head.

Mind racing—hell of a way to invade Earth, dropping a single warrior in a single spaceship on a beach in the middle of nowhere—he stepped forward. Idris strained the lead and the Doctor looked down at his dog.

“If she comes out swinging, she’ll hit you first. You know this, yeah?”

Idris ignored him. Typical.

“Hello?” he called to the woman in the pod. No answer. “I’m sure you don’t speak English—or even Welsh—but you’ve landed.” He frowned again. He’d survived three tours and this was the oddest thing he’d ever experienced. Plus, he worked with Jack at Torchwood. “Hope you can breathe Earth’s air.”

Her eyes fluttered open. Startlingly golden, she met his gaze as if she knew exactly where he was going to stand. It was more than disconcerting. He shifted, ready to fight, but she didn’t move.

“Hello?” she repeated and swallowed.

In a beautifully graceful move, she pushed himself up. The Doctor waited, braced, but the woman only swung out of the pod and stood, legs steady on the sand, and breathed experimentally. One hand on her chest, she nodded as if satisfied. He’d been right—two long swords formed an X across her back, the ornate handles resting just to the side of her shoulders.

She made no move to reach for them.

“Where am I?” she asked. In English.

He blinked. “I wasn’t aware women from other planets spoke English.” The Doctor grimaced. That probably wasn’t what his first words to a different species should be.

She met his gaze, head tilted, hands loose at her sides. Well, she hadn’t reached for her swords, that was something he supposed. He didn’t really want to fight off a sword attack this early in the morning. Or any day really.

“Earth,” he told her. “Little hamlet in Wales.”

Before the woman did more than nod, Idris lunged forward. The Doctor tried to stop her, but the damn dog had a mind of her own. She leaped at the woman, shorter than him despite her impressive military attire, and barked and jumped as if they were long lost friends.

The woman looked startled, but then bent to pet Idris as if she’d done so every day for the last year.

“This was not how I imagined starting my day.” The Doctor ran a hand down his face and looked around the still-deserted beach. “At least you’re not a Lilliputian.”


	2. Chapter 2

2  
“Idris, down!” he snapped at his dog.

She obeyed but looked over her shoulder as if her obedience was contingent on something. Knowing the dog as he did, the Doctor wouldn’t be surprised if that contingency was bringing the nameless warrior woman home.

Not that there really was any other choice. What was he supposed to do with her, give her over to the local council? Who knew what they’d do. Or how long they’d take in forming the semblance of a plan. Then again, they might surprise him and call London immediately and have this woman arrested. Or worse.

Folding his arms over his chest, he glared, prepared to call London—well Jack at least—himself if she proved hostile.

“You speak English,” he repeated, harder now. “How?”

She studied him a moment, and though she didn’t look away, the Doctor knew she was as aware of their surroundings as he. “You are not alerting the authorities.”

He snorted and tugged on Idris’s lead as he did so. “No.”

“A single pilot space capsule falls from the sky and you behave as if you see one every day.” 

“Seen a lot, me.”

There was no way Jack’d believe this, but at least it’d get his friend down here. Then again, Jack was the only person to make the drive to the cottage.

“I was unaware Earth had made contact with other species.” She looked around the windswept beach, life just stirring in the hamlet, the sun nothing more than a hint on the horizon, struggling to peak through the clouds and fog.

He shrugged. Did contact with Idris count as ‘other species’? “As fascinating as this conversation is, you going to tell me why you fell from the sky?”

“I am Princess Rose of Powell.”

“And you fell from the sky because…?”

She studied him for a moment then looked down at Idris. “If you and your companion would be so kind as to help me transport my capsule to a safe location?”

The Doctor sighed. “Not how I pictured my morning.”

Then again, it was a hell of a lot more exciting than his daily run and return to the solitude of his cottage. Scrubbing a hand over his hair, the Doctor looked toward the sky then back to the capsule.

“Not as backward as you think,” he said, going back to his original statement about Earth. He strained for any sound from the road—sirens, a mass of cars, jets—nothing. That only meant no one knew about the pod. Yet. “We can tow it back to my place,” he offered. “We do have satellites tracking objects in our space.”

“Will this be a problem?” Princess Rose asked and tapped a couple buttons on the inside control panel.

Interest momentarily piqued, the Doctor looked over her shoulder but snapped his mouth closed. The fates were against him, he knew it. Or maybe Jack set this whole thing up. While he wouldn’t put it past his friend, even Jack would’ve had a hard time getting this space capsule to fall from the sky—presumably jettisoned from a ship in orbit—and make it look believable.

He was losing his mind—either this was an elaborate prank or the most detailed hallucination he’d ever experienced. He’d stopped taking the good painkillers ages ago and hadn’t had a drink in over a year. Maybe it was an undocumented side effect?

“Have you an antigrav cart?” He just stared at Princess Rose. She rolled her eyes and huffed. “We’ll need to drag it then.”

“You’re the one who landed on Earth,” he reminded her. “What did you expect when you got here?”

She bent and shoved the pod on the wet sand. His cottage was three kilometers away, minimum. It was going to take them an hour at this rate.

“My choices were limited.”

The Doctor looked at her sharply but she focused on her pushing. Grunting in reply, he handed Idris’s lead to her and gently nudged her out of the way.

“I am perfectly capable of transporting my own—transport.” Princess Rose grimaced but stood back.

“I’m sure you are,” he offered, heaving the thing forward. “Not sayin’ you aren’t.” Another push. “But my cottage is three kilometers away. Don’t know how you measure distance, but it’ll take the both of us pushing this thing to get it safely off the beach before the fishermen come down.”

“Fishermen?” She repeated and sounded genuinely interested. Or maybe excited.

He grunted again and looked at her as she ambled beside him, Idris eagerly at her heel. Traitorous dog. She was never that obedient for him.

“Don’t have fishermen from your planet?”

“My planet is in the midst of a civil war,” she whispered. “Any fishermen we had, have long since joined the armies.”

The Doctor stopped and straightened, back cracking when he stretched. Christ, he was getting old. “And you’re here because?”

Princess Rose met his gaze, golden eyes defiant. She held Idris’s lead tightly, the leather wrapped around her wrist. The Doctor was dead certain the dog had no plans to leave no matter how tightly the princess did or did not hold her lead. Idris had taken an instant liking to the woman for no reason the Doctor could discern.

“Look,” he snapped. “You obviously chose Earth—you speak English like a Londoner, I doubt our little corner of the galaxy is on any map for you to blithely point at, it’s not like you got lost... so what’s the story?”

She held his gaze for another moment then looked to the sandy ground. Without a word, she took his place and pushed her pod. Several moments of silence stretched between them. The Doctor picked up Idris’s lead and walked beside the princess as she bent over the capsule, seemingly unconcerned with the long handles of her swords across her back.

After several meters, he silently took her place.

“I was banished.”

He stopped and looked up at her, but she looked out to sea. Idris whimpered as if she understood the woman’s words, which she probably did, Idris was incredibly intelligent, and rubbed her large head against the princess’s leg. Rose absently bent down and scratched between the dog’s ears.

“Instead of outright killing me, the High Lord Emperor chose to exile me.”

“To Earth.”

They switched positions again, taking turns pushing the capsule off the beach. They left a clear path in the sand about a meter and a half wide.

“Will the water clear the sand?” Princess Rose asked, taking her turn to push. “The—what is it called? When the water comes upon the sand?”

“Tide.” The Doctor walked beside her and tried not to think about the absolute bizarreness of his morning. “Yeah, the tide comes in soon.”

Thirty minutes? He looked out. Less, the bay water already lapped closer which meant the hamlet was waking. In the pre-dawn fog, he couldn’t see anything, but so little changed in this place.

“I had two choices,” she said. “Renounce my allegiance or exile. I chose exile.”

“To Earth.”

“It was that or the Bavagarie Mines.” She shuddered. “Primitive sounded the better option.”

“So not an invasion?”

She looked at him oddly and as they switched places he nodded to her swords. “Oh. No. Just me. While I am confident in my abilities, I doubt even I can defeat your armies. Not,” she hastened to add, “that I’ve any wish to try. I only wish to live here in peace.”

The Doctor snorted but didn’t—couldn’t—say anything more. He knew that feeling all too well. He wanted to tell her peace was an illusion, as elusive as the tide, but pushed the damned space capsule instead.

All in all, he thought he was handling this morning remarkably well.


	3. Chapter 3

3  
“If Earthlings—”

“Humans,” he corrected, too many Sci Fi B movies racing through his brain. “We’re called Humans.”

She nodded as they made their way up the beach. “If Humans have yet to make outside contact, why are you so—so amenable to my presence?”

He looked at her; Idris sniffed their trail and no doubt the cockerels, and the damned pod felt heavier with each push. His back screamed in protest and long-healed scars tugged uncomfortably. Still, no matter how his body protested, he felt invigorated to move like this again.

“Suppose I could scream and run away.” He snorted. “Not really my thing, though. Too damn curious, me. How come you speak English?”

“Translator chip.” She took her position at the pod and shoved. She grunted; they moved more slowly, tiring quickly. They needed to move faster if they wanted to cover the pod’s track from the beach to his cottage. “I speak all Earth’s languages—or you hear your language, at least. I’m not sure how Martha managed to program it so quickly, we hadn’t much time.”

“Martha?”

“The High Duchess, Martha of Royal Hope.” Princess Rose straightened and looked into the distance. “My closest friend.”

“Was she banished, too?”

“No. The High Lord Emperor doesn’t know of her allegiance,” she whispered.

The Doctor eyed her, not entirely certain he believed Princess Rose’s story. Too few details—then again, if she told him a longwinded story involving a lot of people he might not believe her, either.

They finished moving the pod in silence, Idris sniffing at the long streak they left in the sand. It was harder once they left the beach, but no one lived near him, and the Doctor managed to push the blasted thing up the dune, probably illegal, and through the stone gravel without too much trouble.

“You planning on using this again?” he asked as Princess Rose propped the door open with her foot and steadied the capsule on its side while he pushed the damned thing into the cottage.

“No,” she admitted. “I wasn’t really planning to survive the crash landing.”

He straightened and looked at her, frowning as he stretched his back. She looked round the cottage, a small, sparsely decorated place with a proper fireplace and enough wood to see him through the winter. He usually didn’t light the fire, it never warmed him anyway.

“Is this your home?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s lovely,” she said, smiling at the windows and the hideous wallpaper he hadn’t bothered to change when he bought the place. “Are all Earth domiciles like this?”

The Doctor sighed and turned for the kitchen. The scent of coffee permeated the air and he desperately needed his first cup. “No. This is south Wales,” he told her and poured himself a mug. “It’s like nowhere else.”

He fed Idris, who scoffed down her food as if she hadn’t eaten in days and hadn’t hidden her treats round the cottage for a midnight snack. Waiting for his dog to breathe, he threw a dental bone into the living room where she happily chewed it as if she didn’t get one every day.

“Coffee?”

Princess Rose tilted her head. “Is this a beverage?” she nodded at his mug.

“Bit unprepared, yeah?” he asked and poured her a mug anyway. “Can you even eat the food? You can breathe the air, that’s something I suppose. But there’s food, drink, place to sleep. Money.”

Princess Rose sipped her coffee and grimaced. Without a word, he offered the cream and sugar, and watched her add them in increments until she nodded, moderately satisfied. It was a stalling tactic and he knew it. But if seeing a space pod land on a Welsh beach shocked him, he couldn’t imagine what landing on an entirely different planet had done to its occupant.

“I had very little time to prepare,” she admitted. “The Imperial Forces captured me at the gates and marched me directly to the High Lord Emperor.” She stared into her mug, voice distant, fingers clenched around the cup.

“Princess—”

“Rose.” She met his gaze, golden eyes soft and sad. “It’s just Rose now.”

There was more to her story. He didn’t know much about royalty or titles or other planets, but the Doctor could figure one thing out. The princess part of Princess Rose of Powell meant she was somehow connected to the High Lord Emperor.

He didn’t pry. Everyone had their secrets. Far as he was concerned, they could keep them. He had enough of his own.

“Rose.” He nodded in acknowledgement. “What did you plan to do once you arrived here?”

He didn’t want to say landed. Sounded too farfetched, too 50s Sci Fi even for him. Idris trotted into the kitchen and plopped her head on Rose’s lap. The smile the woman sent his dog stabbed through the Doctor as surely as Saxon’s knife had through his back. Wide and happy, that smile showed the pure joy of unfettered and instant love.

Clearing his throat, he caught her gaze. Her smile dimmed, which pained him, but she didn’t stop scratching Idris’s head. 

“I know some people. They may be able to help you get settled.”

“I shall need currency, yes? And a skill.” She frowned and stopped petting Idris, who bumped her hand in demand for more attention. “I’m afraid I have little other than tactical knowledge, I commanded my—my armies for several cycles.”

His tongue burned to ask her more, but he felt he had quite enough information in his poor brain. He’d seen a good portion of the world, the good, the bad, the ugly—never once had he seen an alien. Huh. Saw something new every day.

“I never asked.” Rose stood and looked contrite. She folded her hands in front of her and bowed her head. “It’s rather rude of me. To whom have I the pleasure of meeting?”

“The Doctor.” He cleared his throat but there was no need to tell her his given name. “And that’s Idris.”

“Doctor.” Rose’s eyes widened “Perhaps the stars sent me to you for a reason. Or perhaps Martha had a say in my destination.”

“Have you need of a doctor?” he asked eyeing her. “I’m not a healer, if that’s what you need.”

She’d pushed that pod well enough, showed no outward sign of injury, and certainly hadn’t complained on their slow trek along the beach.

“No. No, I’ve no need for a healer.” She grinned, a quick twitch of her lips. And was…was that her tongue peaking at the side of her mouth? “It’s a saying on Powell—the hand of the doctor shall mend the heart and soul.”

He looked at her oddly, fairly certain doctors _did_ heal people, but not sure if a soul on Powell could literally be healed. What did he know of Powell? But Rose had turned to Idris, crouching gracefully in front of the dog, swords no burden at all.

“I’ll call Jack after breakfast.” He turned for the fridge. “Hungry?”

This was the longest morning ever.


	4. Chapter 4

4  
He didn’t call Jack after breakfast. It wasn’t because he forgot, the Doctor never forgot anything no matter how he tried. It was Idris’s fault. And Rose’s fault. There was food to eat and dishes to do and Mrs. Davies and her (admittedly) delicious biscuits to avoid.

If Mrs. Davies saw Rose there, with or without her swords, he’d be even bigger gossip fodder than he already was. Three years hadn’t changed his outsider (or English) status.

“Not sure how the village will take it,” he said as he dragged her into the loo. “They’re a quiet lot.”

“You don’t think they saw the pod’s tracks?” Rose asked, worrying her earlobe as if she wore an earring or some other jewelry there. When she saw where his gaze landed, she grimaced and dropped her hand, straightening. “You said you covered them, but perhaps this Mrs. Davies saw it anyway?”

He shook his head. “No. Impossible.” His covert skills, apparently, hadn’t deserted him. “Besides,” he whispered as the woman in question knocked again, calling through the closed oak door. “She came from the street, not the beach path.”

Rose nodded and he closed the door. Idris lay in front of the door, and he eyed the dog. She’d acted strange since their early morning run. Now, with the village just waking and Mrs. Davies’s daily visit, Idris affected as exhausted an expression as he’d ever seen on her.

“Strange dog,” he muttered.

Viola Davies, medium build, ageing as gracefully as any of them, and _flirty_ , held out a tray of currant shortbread biscuits, her daily offering. The biscuits themselves were fine, but the woman had other designs on him instead of a friendly neighbor and the Doctor would just as soon avoid her as not.

Yesterday he’d pretended to be on the phone. The day before he’d instructed Idris to bark wildly, which the dog had obediently done. The day before that, he’d suffered through a half hour of insipid gossip. What wild plan could he concoct today? At a complete loss, the Doctor opened the door.

“Ah, Mr. Noble.” Viola Davies beamed at him. “I was afraid I missed you this morning.”

He stared at her. She knew as well as every other villager that he rarely left the cottage. They all watched him, after all.

“Morning,” he managed.

He used to be so good at conversation—talk for all of England, Jack used to say.

“I baked you currant biscuits today,” she said coyly.

The Doctor tried not to recoil and took the proffered tin. “Ah. Yes. Thanks.”

Mind racing, he searched for a proper excuse. Suddenly the shower turned on. His head whipped around and he stared through the wall in the direction of the loo as if he could see through ancient wood and plaster.

“If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Davies, my pipes seem to be in need of maintenance.” He grabbed the door and swung it closed in the surprised woman’s face.

It wasn’t until he dropped the tin on the table and moved down the hall, long legs eating up the distance that he realized how his words sounded. Bloody fantastic.

Yanking open the door, Idris following him, he stared at the confused scene before him. Rose stood outside the tub, staring at the water falling from the old showerhead.

“Amazing.” She looked over her shoulder, golden eyes alight with pleasure, smile turning those full, pouty lips up in a bright grin.

“That we primitive Humans have mastered the art of running water?”

She laughed again, a light unique sound that bounced off the walls and wormed its way into his heart. “No, that you have so much water that you can use it for washing yourself! Oh, I’ve missed the baths.”

The Doctor did his absolute best not to think about Rose in his shower. He purposely did not look at her body and almost physically had to block images of her, naked, with warm water sluicing down her skin. Or over his large hands on her skin.

Nope. Not going there.

“You can shower later.” He abruptly turned and stalked the few paces to his bedroom. “Let’s find you something else to wear.”

She turned off the water and followed, footsteps a whisper of sound despite her heavy battle-ready boots and leg guards. The Doctor paused at his dresser and stared, unseeing, at the scarred wood. He knew that sort of walk, the step of a soldier prepared to engage in combat at any moment.

Those memories haunted him, the images a blood-tinged nightmare that dodged his every step.

“Not sure how you react to the cold.” He shoved memories and images of Rose’s skin aside and dug through his drawer for a jumper. “What’s it like on Powell?”

It didn’t escape him she was Princess Rose of the planet Powell nor that she hadn’t said more of this rebellion, her allegiance, her family, or much of anything. Still, the Doctor wasn’t going to leave her on the beach and no matter how attractively her armor molded to her body, it was definitely a distraction.

Problem. Should’ve said problem there. He wasn’t distracted by her body. Only by her presence…

He needed to stop thinking. Now.

“They’ll be a bit big,” he admitted, doing his damnedest to look at her body as dispassionately as possible. It wasn’t very dispassionate at all. “You can use the other room to change.”

Rose held the clothing tight to her chest and offered a formal bow. “Thank you, the Doctor.” 

“Just Doctor,” he corrected, the words strangling him. “You can call me Doctor.”

Her chin tilted but her eyes softened. “Thank you.”

She disappeared into the second bedroom, the one he kept his unpacked boxes in, and the Doctor watched her leave. He needed to phone Jack and knew it, but—

Grabbing his mobile, he pressed Jack’s number. His friend answered on the second ring.

“Doc! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure.” The Doctor didn’t need to see Jack to know his friend’s eyes narrowed and he sat up from whatever indolent position he posed.

“I need you to come down, Jack.” The Doctor said nothing about satellites or unidentified flying objects, or the conspiracies that would populate the internet in a matter of hours. The line was bugged and they both knew it.

“Finally feeling up for a visit?” Jack’s voice, though light, held a questioning note.

“Yeah. Can you come down today?”

“If you need me to,” Jack agreed and the Doctor heard him shuffling items on his desk.

“The sooner the better, Jack.”

“Doc—”

“Today, Jack,” the Doctor reiterated.

He ended the call and stared at the phone. He knew Jack and knew his friend would leave within the hour and drive like the very hounds of hell were on his tail.


	5. Chapter 5

5.  
Five hours, several aborted conversations about Rose’s home, one quick walk with Idris (alone), and a surprisingly smooth lunch later where Rose asked questions about Wales, Jack finally arrived.

“I do not understand,” Rose was saying as Idris barked wildly at the door.

The Doctor didn’t even bother taming the dog—she was out of control today—and opened the door for Jack who hadn’t even parked the car yet. Idris raced out of the cottage and to Jack’s door, happily leaping up onto it as if she could squeeze through the window.

“Wales is a country but Wales is also a species of mammal who live in your oceans?” Rose tilted her head, and he did his best (which was woefully inadequate) not to stare at her, dressed in his clothing, and still looking as strong and competent as when she wore her armor and swords.

“Wales, W-a-l-e-s, is a country named after an ancient people—” the Doctor shook his head on the entomological history of the word. “Whales, w-h-a-l-e-s, the sea creature, is similar in origin—Celtic vs High Germanic—but they have absolutely nothing in common.”

Idris raced back in, stared at him, then at Rose before racing back to the door. She didn’t run out again, but waited just inside, tail thumbing impatiently.

“I still do not understand,” Rose admitted and moved to keep an eye on the door, a strategic position that wasn’t lost on him. “Why have words that sound so similar but don’t mean anything the same?”

“That’s English for you.” He grinned. At her answering smile, his heart did a funny little flip. Damnit, there was that tongue teasing the side of her mouth again. “Wait until I explain bat and bat. Or their, there, and they’re.”

Her eyes lighted with curious humor and that feeling of wanting to know more about her reared its head once again. Over the last hours, he’d enjoyed their talk, now that the uncomfortable tension disappeared…or, well, lessened.

Princess Rose of Powell, it seemed, was a lot like him—an intellectual warrior. The Doctor didn’t know what to make of that, but he didn’t turn away from it, either. He hadn’t spoken this much in months—years. And he hadn’t enjoyed himself in a conversation for ages before that.

“Well, hello, and who are you, you gorgeous thing?” Jack’s voice echoed down the cottage’s hall and the Doctor faced him as the door closed.

Jack crouched beside Idris and rubbed her head. It was a matter of seconds before his traitorous dog sat, laid down, and rolled over. Jack laughed and rubbed Idris’s belly while the dog’s tail wagged uncontrollably and she made the pleased whines of the utterly content.

“Jack, stop.”

His friend stood, much to Idris’s displeasure, and grinned. “When you said you rescued a dog, I didn’t believe you.”

The Doctor sneered at his friend, who ignored him. Arms wide, Jack hugged him, and the Doctor returned it. He hadn’t realized how long it’d been since he had Human contact until the hug.

“And who is this gorgeous thing,” Jack asked, looking now at Rose.

Rose straightened, though the Doctor didn’t miss the way her cheeks pinked. “Princess Rose of Powell.” She offered a short bow and complicated hand gesture.

Hmph. All he got was to push her capsule along the beach and hide the subsequent tracks. Jack, it seemed, got the formal greeting.

“Powell?” Jack’s eyes slid to his. “Doc?”

“Fell to the beach in her space capsule.” The Doctor sighed and jerked his head in the direction of his spare bedroom. “Torchwood pick anything up?”

Face set, Jack shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

****  
Rose laughed at Captain Jack’s story about he and the Doctor’s first meeting. She understood few of the specifics, places, names, occupations, but the captain’s natural storytelling demeanor conveyed more than individual words. As captivating as his story was, she couldn’t help looking to the Doctor.

His silent watchfulness, his broken blue gaze, his barren house all enthralled her. The way he treated Idris, the soft touch of his large hand on her head, showed a softer side of him. Not the strong man who pushed her escape pod or the warrior who interrogate her.

Martha claimed Rose’s destiny lay not on Powell but elsewhere. Rose hadn’t believed her and, despite her exile, always intended to return to her home world and reclaim the throne. Maybe her friend was right.

Jack walked to the bedroom to examine her pod and Rose turned to the Doctor. He watched her, hand on Idris’s head, deceptively casual as he leaned against the wall.

“I betray every instinct I possess,” Rose whispered, rolling up the sleeves of his jumper. The soft material pleasantly scratched her skin. “I knew I needed to trust someone on this new world, but doing so goes against my nature.”

“What did you intend to do here? Accomplish?” The Doctor pushed off the wall and crossed the distance to the table in two long strides. Not that Rose admired his gracefulness. Much.

“I don’t know.” She sighed and stood, restless. “I wanted a new beginning, a place away from the constant battles.”

“You intended to return to Powell.”

Rose nodded. “I owe my people my sword.”

“We owe only what we have promised to give until we have nothing left to give.” The Doctor’s voice remained low, but Rose heard a wealth of meaning—and anguish—in his simple words. 

His gaze followed her as she stalked around the room, missing the weight of her swords, the feel of her leg guards, the comfort of her armor. The simple touch of her native clothing meant little compared to the heaviness in her heart.

“I can never return.” Rose stared out a window facing the beach. The quietly lapping water, the expanse of uncluttered sand. “My world once looked like this. I don’t remember it, we’ve been fighting for years before I was born. But the stories tell of a time when the shores of Powell held riches we could only dream of. Fish with names no longer remembered.”

“That’s what you meant when you said you didn’t know what a tide was,” the Doctor said. Rose watched his reflection in the glass and wondered what he saw when he looked at her. “War does that to a people. Doesn’t just destroy them, destroys all they wanted to protect, too.”

“You speak as if you are familiar with war.” Rose didn’t tear her gaze from the beach, the sun shining off the sand, people wandering the shores as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Shaking her head, she turned from the window and the life she couldn’t have.

“Seen enough, me.” The Doctor pushed back from the table and stood, turning for the kitchens. “Too much.”

Rose stepped after him, his shattered words pulling her. She stopped in the doorway and waited while he fiddled with the maker of coffee Rose couldn’t decide if she enjoyed or not.

“I never asked.” She listened for Jack to return, but only heard his muffled conversation. “What’s your name? Or is it just the Doctor?”

The Doctor stopped, shoulders stiff. “Don’t have a name.” He started touching the machine again, clanging louder than she thought necessary. “Not anymore.”

“We all have names.” Rose stood beside him before she realized she moved. “No matter how we wish to change them.”

“Like Princess Rose of Powell?” He looked down at her hand on his arm then met her gaze.

Her jaw clenched. “I never tried to hide who I was.”

“Going to tell me that story?” He leaned a hip against the counter, arms folded over his chest and far more attractive than any man had a right to be.

“I’m sure you figured most of it out.” Rose dropped back a step. “My father is the High Lord Emperor. For generations Powell fought a horrific civil war—that is the word, yes? A war amongst a place’s own peoples?”

He nodded but remained quiet; the tension didn’t lessen but wound around them. Rose didn’t know if it brought them together or held them at a standoff. Either way, it beat through her like a war cry. Rose closed her eyes and fought back memories. But only for a moment. Opening them, she faced the Doctor and told her story. 

“Ten cycles ago, our forces captured one of the rebel leaders; Martha and I were sent to interrogate him.”

Rose stalked into the dining area then back to the kitchens. Even now, after all she’d done to end the war, shame burned through her.

“They say there are always three sides to every story—ours, theirs, and the truth.” She snorted and raked her fingers through her long, loose hair. It didn’t sit right, her hair not bound tightly in a braid, but she promised herself a new beginning and this was a small step in that direction.

“The truth,” she whispered, “is often much harder to swallow than many believe.” Rose met his gaze but knew he already understood her next words. “My father began the war on a small kingdom across the seas. They had already pledged loyalty but it wasn’t enough. The world fractured and every able-bodied Powellian took up arms.”


	6. Chapter 6

6.  
Idris nudged her knee and Rose knelt on the floor to scratch the dog’s head, letting her snout and quiet whimpers comfort her. Shame, anger—a flooding, pounding _rage_ —blinded her as it had since she learned the truth of her father’s deceit.

Rose’s whole life, she idolized her father, the man who raised her alone, brought her to council meetings, taught her how to run the country and how to fight better than her bravest teachers. The day she learned the truth destroyed her.

“I was raised to believe the High Lord Emperor fought to unite the world under a peaceful banner, but the truth was the world had already been united. It was my father’s greed that destroyed that.”

“And your mother?”

“I was told she died in childbirth.” Rose shuddered and met his gaze. “Mickey, the rebel commander we captured, told me she fled the palace when she learned the truth. Tried to take me with her, but the High Lord Emperor caught her. He took me and banished her to the wastelands.”

The Doctor watched Rose kneel beside Idris and take comfort from his dog. “I’m sorry.” The words held a heavy sincerity that touched her.

“Thank you.”

********  
The Doctor let the silence surround them, not entirely certain if he wanted to break it or not. Idris comforted Rose, and not for the first time he wondered if his stray dog understood human language better than most humans. She certainly understood human emotions.

Or Powellean emotions.

Good dog.

“Why did you believe the commander?” The coffeepot dinged but he didn’t move to pour the coffee. Instead he switched on the kettle and set about making tea. A story like this required tea. Jack, who still spoke with his people at Torchwood, could drink the coffee. He’d need it.

“I didn’t.” Rose stood and sniffed. “Martha agreed to return with Mickey; neither told anyone in either the castle or the camp her true mission. I told my commanders she infiltrated the rebel base. Mickey said he captured her and kept her as prisoner—she’s a healer and a scientist. Each side desperately needs those.”

“And everyone believed Rickey?” The Doctor snorted. “Just like that?”

“Mickey.” Rose frowned at him. “He’s very high up with the rebels.”

“Then how did you capture him?”

“The war is going badly for all involved.” Rose closed her eyes and he knew what she saw. The Doctor didn’t know what Powell looked like, but he knew what images of a bloody battlefield did. “The planet is a wasteland, the oceans polluted, the air far more toxic than when I was a child. No farmers remain to tend their fields and famine has swept the planet.”

Rose shook her head. “Mickey volunteered to gather supplies. He’s a good leader, his people trust him, but his motto isn’t very practical for a commander. He should’ve sent others to scavenge for supplies but insisted he won’t send anyone if he wasn’t willing to do it as well.”

The Doctor nodded in begrudging respect for the faceless Rickey. “And why did you believe him?”

Rose raised her golden gaze to his. “He rescued my mother.”

“Doc.” Jack’s voice cut through the house.

The Doctor met the resigned golden gaze of Rose. She stood, shoulders back, chin tilted, jaw set. Idris whined, and sat on Rose’s foot as if guarding the beautiful stranger. Rose’s hand rested on Idris’s head and she nodded.

Stepping from the kitchen, the Doctor stared at his friend. “They found her.”

“Not quite.” He sighed and ran a hand through his normally perfect hair. The fact Jack’s hair looked a riotous mess made the Doctor’s stomach sink. “Torchwood did pick something up, they’re about three hours behind me which means they’ll be here any minute.”

“Can they track her pod?” The Doctor turned to Rose who’d stepped beside him, silent and waiting. “Is there a way to cloak it?”

Rose nodded and, Idris beside her, stalked from the room as if she still wore her armor and not his too-big clothes. He tried not to admire the sway of her hips as she walked past him.

“What else did you learn?” He snapped at Jack.

“Hartman wants to speak with you.” Jack sneered. “She wants you back.”

“Not in this lifetime or any other.”

“I believe you did tell her that.” Jack’s lips twitched. “I think everyone in Torchwood Tower heard you.”

“I thought you were taking over.” The Doctor folded his arms over his chest and looked down the hall to where Rose cloaked her spaceship.

Never getting used to that word.

He couldn’t see her, of course, but that didn’t stop him from looking. One day, less than twelve hours, and he’d already grown accustomed to having her around.

“Hartman has a lot of political allies.” Jack grimaced then grinned charmingly and waggled his eyebrows. “I can only _persuade_ so many of them at a time.”

The Doctor snorted.

He hated what he did in his time with Torchwood. The science end of it was fun and he enjoyed working with Malcolm Taylor, and most of the mid-level workers weren’t fanatical like Hartman. Torchwood wasn’t all investigating and new inventions.

It was dark, bloody, dangerously ambitious with very few checks or balances.

“Saxon is gone,” Jack promised. “I saw his body myself.”

“So you said.”

The Doctor believed Jack, of course he did. That wasn’t the point. Hartman allowed Saxon’s insanity to run unchecked—it wasn’t only him Saxon had targeted, literally and figuratively. Dozens had been killed, kidnapped, their jobs and savings destroyed, their families threatened in his quest for power.

His back burned where Saxon buried his knife.

“Hartman can jump off a bridge as far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s why she wants you back.” Jack clasped him on the shoulder, bringing him back to the present. “She knows she needs you there to make anything work, her people might be smart and dedicated to the cause, but no one’s like you.”

“You still haven’t bought me a drink.” Rose came into view and the Doctor glanced at Jack. “Flattery will only get you so far.”

Jack barked out a laugh. “I figure we have thirty minutes, forty-five minutes tops.” He stepped around the Doctor and stood in front of Rose. “I’ll pick you up some clothes.”

Jack eyed Rose and the Doctor felt the (unreasonable) need to slam his friend’s head against the wall for looking at her. Clearing his throat, he dropped his arms and—didn’t know what to do. Unaccustomedly awkward, he stood there while Jack assessed Rose.

“These people, they have the ability to track objects from space?” Rose looked to him and the Doctor nodded.

“Told you we weren’t as primitive as you thought we were.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't say it often enough, but without **[Mrs. Bertucci](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsbertucci/pseuds/mrsbertucci)** , this story wouldn't be what it is. Thank you, m'dear!

7.  
Rose desperately wished to don her armor again. She wanted to pace the rooms. Her fingers itched to hold her swords, feel their perfectly balanced weight in her hands, the carved briar-wolf’s head on their hilts.

She stood perfectly still and watched the Doctor prowl the area and swear. At least she thought they were swears. The words made little sense but she’d been a soldier all her life—the tone sounded the same in any language.

“How long is thirty minutes?”

The Doctor stopped in front of her, blue eyes glittering with such anger Rose wondered it didn’t burn her. But he gently rested his hands on her shoulders. When he spoke, none of his anger or pain crept through. Only his sincerity.

“A minute is 60 seconds, a second is about this long.” He snapped his fingers and shrugged. “Give or take. Thirty minutes is about ten minutes gone.”

She tilted her head. “How do you know? How do you calculate time?”

“Just know, me.” He grinned and his entire face lightened with it. Like he looked earlier, when they spoke of words. Enlightened to speak of such things.

“And this Hartman, she is dangerous?”

His hands flexed on her shoulders. “I won’t let her take you, Rose. I swear.”

“You don’t even know me,” she reasoned. But her hands rested on his arms and for the first time in memory, Rose felt a sense of—safety. Comfort. Acceptance.

For a long moment he said nothing, face stoic. Then the Doctor slowly relaxed and a soft, half-smile lighted his face. “I’m a good judge of character.”

“You believe me, then?” Rose licked her lips and hadn’t realized until right now how much she wanted him too.

“I believe you fell from the sky.” He snorted and shook his head. “And I believe you’ve seen war and pain.” The Doctor shrugged but it wasn’t dismissive, more in acceptance. “I believe your story of your father well enough, if that’s what’s got you worried.”

A lot of things worried her. All she’d known of Earth was that it was the closest planet to Powell with a compatible atmosphere. When her father decreed her banishment—when Rose’s mother bartered her silence and her life for Rose’s—Martha had rushed to finish the implant that allowed translations.

When they’d been young, both she and Martha had been fascinated by Earth radio transmissions. They’d learned about Earth from sights and sounds that traveled through space to their own communications. Her father had indulged her interest so long as Rose never fell behind in her studies.

Now, that indulgence sickened her. Rose always thought Peter loved her, but how could a man who waged war across their planet, who banished his wife, _her mother_ , to the wastelands for trying to escape his tyranny truly love her?

Rose clenched her hands and dug her blunt nails into her palms. The pain helped clear her head and she listened to the Doctor’s voice. It grounded her, set her feet on this new planet and eased her worries. Yes, so far as Rose could tell now, the implant worked well.

She’d never be able to thank Martha. Or speak to her closest friend again.

“What is Torchwood’s purpose?” Rose asked, changing the subject.

She hadn’t had time to truly comprehend all that had happened to her in these last cycles. And now this change.

“Purpose?” The Doctor shrugged and dropped his hands. Rose missed his touch. “They want to advance Britain’s sphere of influence.”

“Britain?”

“The country.” The Doctor shook his head and snorted. “You really didn’t research anything about Earth, did you.”

“I know its name!” She protested. Then chuckled and sighed. “There wasn’t time to learn more than we already knew. Your radio transmissions were entertaining for us when we were young, but they offered little in the way of geographical understanding. I was lucky Martha encoded Earth languages into the translator processor.”

She paused and wondered how much more time passed. And how Humans calculate it. “Torchwood?” she prodded.

“Hartman likes to think she can recreate Britain’s golden age of empire building or some other rubbish. Uses any advantage she can get no matter how she gets it.”

Rose watched as he looked at the room, but knew he didn’t see the furnishings or the walls. He looked in himself, or maybe into the past, remembering.

“They also investigate anything out of the ordinary, searching for a way to use it to their purposes. Ghosts, strange energy.” He met her gaze. “Aliens.”

“You’ve met beings from other planets?” she demanded and wondered which planets. Maybe that’s why he acted so calm when she stepped onto the beach; she wasn’t the first non-Earth being he met.

“No, you’re my first.” He snorted at that and mumbled something about Jack she didn’t understand. “Fairly certain Hartman’s first, too, and I’m sure that’s got her in a lather.”

“Lather? I don’t understand.”

The Doctor waved it off. “Doesn’t matter. Just know I’ll protect you. No matter what I have to do.”

His gaze hardened, lips pressed thin, jaw set. Before her stood a warrior and even though his promise warmed the warrior part of _her_ , Rose didn’t want to see him take up arms again when he so clearly found a life that did not require the use of them.

She bowed deeply and saluted him. “Thank you, Doctor. But you have set aside your weapons for a better life. I don’t wish to be the cause of you taking them up again.”

“If Hartman discovers you’re not from Earth, we’ll all need to take up arms. It’ll be the only way to stop her.”

Idris barked, and the Doctor tensed. He stalked silently down the hall but stopped short of the door. Rose followed, his socks warmed her feet but offered no real traction, unarmed but ready, only to stop as well. The dog bounded happily at the door.

“I’m back.” Jack opened the front door and stopped short and grinned. “Aww, you missed me.”

“No, but Idris did.” The Doctor took the sack from Jack and shook his head at his dog.

Jack bent and let Idris lick his face and settle her front paws on his shoulders. “You’re a good girl, yes you are!” He scratched her sides. “I missed you, too, beautiful.”

“Do all Humans speak to animals this way?” Rose tilted her head to watch the interaction but just then Idris leaped off Jack and ran to her, giving her the same treatment. “It is most odd.”

“Jack affects a lot of people that way.” The Doctor dumped the contents of the bag onto the table. “Apparently dogs, too.”


	8. Chapter 8

8.  
The Doctor paced, reviewing his various strategies. Hartman wasn’t one to back off. If she thought there was anything in the Bay worth having, she’d take it by force.

Rose had changed, Jack contacted his people in London, and he planned. He hadn’t realized how invigorating it felt to think strategically until he was forced to do so again. He hadn’t missed it, per se, but he also hadn’t used that part of his brain in a very long time. Doing so felt as good as running had this morning.

Had it really only been this morning? He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. Ten hours since meeting Rose and helping her push her escape pod off the beach? Seemed longer. And yet no time at all.

Muscles he hadn’t worked in years had stretched and pulled, and now as he planned his first ‘meeting’ with Hartman in just as many years, his mind stretched as well.

“You know she’s coming with a contingent of her most loyal guards,” Jack said as he sipped his strong, black coffee and shared a piece of bacon with Idris. “Last time you two met, you threatened to kill her.”

The Doctor ignored Rose’s interest, the way her golden eyes looked at him as if she read his soul. Instead he snorted.

“Hartman doesn’t scare me and neither do those pretty boys she calls guards.” He shook his head and paced from the kitchen to the dining room and the living room he rarely used, then back again. “But she’s coming here herself. Means she believes, or suspects, there’s something worth seeing.”

He looked to Rose, doing his damndest _not_ to appreciate the way the clothes Jack bought her fit her perfectly. Casual, black trousers, with comfortable rubber-soled sneakers, and a long-sleeved pink top. Jack—damn the man—had even picked out a bra for her in what appeared to be her perfect size.

The Doctor didn’t even want to think about that conversation or Jack’s knowing look when Rose had stepped from the spare room, where her pod rested, naked from the waste up, the bra dangling from her fingers.

No matter how he’d tried not to stare at her naked breasts, it’d been a losing battle.

“Perhaps I should leave,” Rose offered. “If she does not find me, she won’t harass you.”

Jack stiffened, mug dropping to the counter with a sharp click. The Doctor didn’t need to look at Jack to know what the other man thought.

“No.” The Doctor growled. “Now that she’s found a way to dig her claws back into me, she won’t easily leave.”

“Still,” Jack added, stepping between he and Rose. “Not having Rose here—despite my excellent clothes shopping—might be for the best.”

“No.” The Doctor didn’t care it made sense. “How’d you explain her in the village?”

“I can walk on the beach.” Rose stepped for the door, but Idris blocked her way. “Perhaps with Idris. That’s logical.”

“No dogs on the beach after nine,” the Doctor said. But he sighed and folded his arms over his chest. It pulled the scars on his back. “Besides, if Hartman’s people take you, we’ll never know until it’s too late.”

Jack’s phone beeped. He met the Doctor’s gaze even as he pulled it from his back pocket. “That’s Ianto,” he said, glancing briefly at the message. “Hartman’s people are twenty minutes out.”

“Jack, go buy lunch. Something nice and local.” The Doctor turned back to Rose. “We’re going to have a nice lunch while I introduce you to my new lover. Rose Powell.”

“Doc.” Jack clamped a hand on his shoulder. “You better hope Donna never hears about this. She’ll never forgive you.”

The Doctor grimaced. “My cousin will never know.”

Probably.

“Lover?” Rose tilted her head as Idris barked and wagged her tail. “Is that wise?”

He shrugged and shook his head. Not in the least. “Got a better idea?”

“No,” Rose admitted as the door slammed behind Jack. “But I am sorry to have brought so much on your head. I admit, when I escaped Powell, my only concern was with my own life and safety.”

He sighed and nodded. “Can’t hold that against you. Not your fault you didn’t know about Hartman. Torchwood is very secretive. Only high-level government people have even heard of it, and even then, it’s mostly rumors.”

“I had hoped,” Rose began slowly, “that I might stay on this planet in peace. I’ve no way to return to Powell.” She looked at Idris, who bopped her head against Rose’s leg. Rose absently scratched behind the dog’s ears. “I’d planned to live in relative obscurity and not disturb anyone, and hope Martha found a way to overthrow my father and rescue me.”

The Doctor sighed and took her hand. He refused to think how right it felt in his. “No shame in that. Not exactly smart, landing on a planet you knew nothing about, but we all make mistakes.” He tried for a laugh but it came out as more a huffing grimace. It’d been a while since he laughed, too.

Idris whimpered, and the Doctor rested his hand on her head. She angled around the touch to lick his palm.

“Idris seems to like you, but then she likes Jack, too.” He grinned and it felt more natural, like earlier. Real. Rose returned it, a small, hopeful smile. “Even if you admitted to killing your entire planet and watching it burn, I wouldn’t turn you over to Hartman.”

She sucked in a breath and jerked back. “I didn’t, I haven’t lied to you, Doctor.”

He watched her for precious, long second. “No, I don’t believe you have. For a soldier, you’re very open, Princess Rose of Powell.”

She didn’t contradict him, but offered another, small smile. “That’s Rose Powell, lover to the Doctor.” Rose tilted her head and frowned. “Should I now know your true name if we are lovers? Or do many on your planet have professions as names?”

The Doctor cleared his throat and grimaced. “It’s Jonathan. Jon if you absolutely must call me that.”

“Jonathan.” Rose said the name several times. “Jonathan. Jon. _Jonathan_.”

He liked how it sounded on her tongue, how her mouth moved over the letters and syllables. It opened something in him he’d long closed off.

“I like how it sounds,” she admitted. “But I think I prefer the Doctor.”

Damn if he didn’t like how that sounded, too.


	9. Chapter 9

9.  
Yvonne Hartman looked like a high-level business woman. Sharply dressed, perfect hair and makeup, she strode down the street with a confident step in her high-heels and her eyes focused on her prey.

The Doctor grimaced. He hated the woman with all the strength of a burning sun, but he gave her points for effort.

“She does not look like the general in charge of a secret army intent on taking over the world.” Rose stood next to him as they surreptitiously watched out of the drapery. Jack had not yet returned from his food run, but the Doctor knew that was purposeful.

“You ready for this?” He turned to look at her, once again captured by her golden eyes. Wolf eyes, he thought, though the Doctor honestly wasn’t sure if wolves had golden eyes or blue. Still, Princess Rose of Powell certainly struck him as a predator.

She raised her chin. “I am. I chose this world, I need to learn to live here.”

He grimaced. “Meeting Hartman your first day isn’t exactly the best introduction.”

Rose titled her head and a hint of her tongue teased the corner of her mouth. “I met you on my first day.”

The Doctor started to ask if that meant she had a great introduction or not, but Idris growled. He eyed his dog, briefly debated hooking the lead on her, but no. This was his house. If Hartman wanted to enter, she’d have to deal with Idris, first.

And if Idris attacked…

He grinned and opened the door. He had hope; he quite liked hope. Two guards surrounding Hartman immediately drew their weapons and trained them on his dog.

“You shoot my dog, Hartman, and no power in this universe will stop me from hunting you down.”

The bay breeze blew Hartman’s perfectly styled hair into her face, and she impatiently swiped it away. She eyed him coolly for a moment, as if expecting him to back down. The Doctor almost laughed—after all this time she should know him better.

“Put your weapons away, gentlemen.” Her gaze flicked from the Doctor to Idris, then to Rose. She eyed Rose curiously for a moment, then returned her gaze to him.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re interrupting lunch.”

Her eyebrow raised. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Jonathan?”

He growled at the false use of familiarity, but Rose stood next to him and settled her hand on his back. The Doctor couldn’t decide what that feeling swirling in his chest was, but now wasn’t the time to sort it out.

“No.”

Idris growled, ears straight up, teeth bared. She sat in front of Rose, and though the Doctor couldn’t see her eyes, not from his angle, he had the feeling she glared at Hartman. Clearly the head of Torchwood would be the first to go when Idris decided she’d had enough.

Hartman sighed. “We tracked an object from space to this area.”

The Doctor snorted. “I know you think hunting aliens is as important as the History Channel, but let me give you a lesson in science.” His voice dripped condescension and he knew it pissed Hartman off. “When objects fall from the sky, they tend to burn up in our atmosphere. Meteors, space junk, bits of space debris—none of them are capable of surviving our atmosphere. Now, I grant you, there are occasions when these objects do manage to survive, a piece of space junk hits a house, but I’m sure the whole world’d known if the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs hits south Wales.”

Hartman’s lips pursed, and beside her her guards shifted nervously. The Doctor wondered if they knew who he was, or if she chose them because they came on after his rather abrupt, and threatening, departure.

“Yes,” she snapped. “Thanks ever so. I’m merely here to scan the area and stopped by as a courtesy.”

He snorted. “Thanks for stopping by, don’t make it a habit.” He gripped the door and swung it closed.

It felt fantastic to do that, and he let out a short chuckle.

“She is not a nice woman,” Rose said, still contemplating the doorway where Hartman could be clearly heard issuing orders to start scanning the area. “Her people fear her.”

“She’s a lunatic,” he muttered.

“A what?” Rose met his gaze.

“I’ll explain later. I know Hartman, and she won’t leave quietly. And I’m not sure they don’t have the technology to find your pod.”

“Why are you helping me?” Rose whispered. “I’ve done nothing to earn your trust, nothing to prove I am not set on world domination.”

He snorted again and ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Rose, I’ve known a lot of people, good, bad, in between. Doesn’t matter if you’re not Human. I believe you.”

Tension he hadn’t realized still knotted her shoulders suddenly released. She smiled up at him, grin wide, golden eyes lighter than a moment ago. “Thank you.”

The Doctor had a feeling Rose might’ve hugged him then, a move he thought didn’t come easy to her and one he wasn’t sure how to take. But Idris barked and her tail wagged again.

“Jack’s here.” The Doctor jerked his head to the other room’s windows. “Peek out, let me know if Hartman’s goons are still surrounding the house.”

Rose moved silently to do so while Idris scratched at the door. At this rate, he’d need to replace it. 

“Clear!” Rose called.

The Doctor opened the door to Jack, laden down with takeaway boxes, gun drawn as he scanned the area.

“Good timing.” The Doctor took the takeaway boxes. “She’s gone.”

“Cars are still here.” Jack backed into the house. “Can’t have gone far.”

“No, she’ll be back. She’s a cockroach you can’t kill.”

Jack grunted and locked the door, scratching Idris’s back as he did so. “She say anything?”

Rose joined them in the dining room, shoulders once more set and wary. But she accepted Idris’s attention and the glass of water he offered her with a half-smile.

“Curtesy drop by, the same old.” He looked out the kitchen windows, which faced the beach. “She’ll be back before they leave. She’s not giving up that easily.”


	10. Chapter 10

10.  
“What did you say to Hartman?” Rose held a piece of meat up and waited while Idris sat, tail thumbing endearingly on the floor. She looked from the dog to the Doctor, who stared at her with a gaze she couldn’t quite decipher.

Hunger and softness, lust, Rose thought with her own tingle of awareness, and acceptance.

“You heard every word.”

“No.” Rose dropped the meat and watched as Idris scarfed it and swallowed it whole, then whimpered for more. “Before. What did you say to her when you left Torchwood?”

His look changed. Closed off, no longer the confusing open admiration, but a dark anger that sent a shiver down Rose’s spine. She knew that look, understood it all too well.

Jack stood in the other room, Rose felt his eyes on her, but he spoke into his communication device to his assistant, Ianto. She didn’t look at him, unwilling to break the—the intimacy, the quiet connection between she and the Doctor.

“I was a warrior.” His voice, despite its quietness, carried across the table. “Much like you.” His eyes met hers, broken shards of crystal. “I fought for Queen and Country, used my particular skill set to keep my loved ones safe.”

“You grew weary of battle.” Rose nodded gently, a small movement of her head. “I, too, understand that.”

“Yeah.”

He met her gaze and in there she knew the truth. The Doctor had fought, killed, hunted. And those actions, those bodies, those kills, weighed on him.

“I lost.” He grimaced, but held her gaze steady as if he tried to tell her all he’d done with a look alone. “Tried to catch the bad guy, but he—turns out the ultimate bad guy was my closest friend.”

Rose reached across the table and grasped his hand. Idris whined and shuffled from Rose’s chair to the Doctor’s, where she rested her head on his lap. He didn’t look down, but his other hand rested on her neck.

“I’m sorry.” She tightened her grip on his. “I know what betrayal feels like.”

“Yeah.” He looked away then, but didn’t release her hand. For several heartbeats, the Doctor remained silent. “You landed at the wrong beach, Princess Rose of Powell. I can’t help you. I can only bring more destruction to your life.”

“No. I landed on the right one. I don’t believe in the gods, if they had any sway over us, they’d have stopped my father long before he banished me. Even before my mother left him.” She stood, not releasing his hand, and rounded the small table. He held her hand tight, as if afraid to let go and drift off into space. The same fear as her. “But something guided me here. I don’t know if it was Martha or my mother or some other force.”

Rose stopped, choked with grief and loneliness and even the buzzing anticipation of new and wonderful. She cupped his cheek and wondered at the closeness she felt with him after less than the sun’s full cycle.

“I landed right where I needed to be.”

He snorted, a move Rose found he did often, but didn’t swat her hand away. In fact, he leaned into it, eyes fluttering half-closed, his breath sighed against her skin. Nerves tingling, she leaned over, not sure what her next move might be.

Liar.

She wanted to kiss him. Taste the lips that pulled wide in a daft grin or pressed thin in a scowl. Feel his warm breath against her cheeks, his skin beneath her fingers.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” Jack’s voice cut through the room and Rose shot back. “No, really. I’ll just take my curry and be over here.” He winked at her and did just that. “Watching.”

“Jack,” the Doctor growled.

“What?” Jack asked far too innocently for the wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’ll only watch for a moment. Or so.”

He winked at her, and Rose felt herself blush. The fact she could blush, after all she’d seen and done, shocked her, and she dropped her hand. The Doctor caught it, and held tight. She looked back at him, and that same feeling washed through her at his touch.

Grounded. Secure. Safe.

“What did Yan say?” the Doctor asked, voice gruff.

“Who is Yan?” Rose looked between Jack, who continued watching them with a smug, knowing smirk, and the Doctor, who continued holding her hand.

“Ianto,” the Doctor corrected.

“Ah.” She nodded at the revelation of the nickname. “Are you and Ianto close, then, to use a pet name?”

Jack stilled and looked shocked, which might be the first time Rose had seen him so. “Ah…you could say that.”

“I did say that.” Rose frowned. “Do you not wish us to know you use a pet name with Ianto?”

The Doctor laughed. It sounded gruff, unused, but it warmed a part of Rose she hadn’t realized still existed. She grinned back at him, relaxing slightly. If he laughed, perhaps the situation wasn’t so dire as she suspected.

“Doc, if it gets you to laugh like that again, I’ll let you call me whatever pet name you want.” Jack stared as if he’d never seen the Doctor, and Rose wondered how long it’d been since he’d laughed.

“Not even if you buy me a drink,” the Doctor shot back.

Rose wondered what that meant, but the way the Doctor’s fingers eased around hers made her decide not to ask.

“Ianto,” Jack said, and she saw he purposely used the other man’s full name, “has been digging into Hartman’s files. Seems the Crown isn’t as pleased with her as she wants Torchwood to believe. The Queen, herself, authorized the audit.”

“Good.” The Doctor’s voice hardened, the word shot between the men. “About time.” He paused. “You have anything to do with that audit?”

Jack winked. “Told you I was persuasive.”

“Why has she traveled here, then?” Rose looked from Jack to the Doctor, and once more wondered at the history between the Doctor and Hartman.

Jack swallowed a bite of his food, meat far too spicy for Rose’s stomach. She was used to blander food, and far less of it, too.

“Prove herself.” Jack shrugged and set the empty plate on the table. “Last ditch effort to keep her job and her memories.”

“Torchwood is for life,” the Doctor spat.

Once again, Rose frowned. She understood so little of this world, and even less of its politics. Then again, political gain seemed the same the universe over. “Then how did you leave?”

The grin the Doctor gave her was feral, predatory. “I know far more than Hartman does.”

Rose tilted her head back in a semblance of a nod. “Perhaps we should see where Hartman is now.”

The Doctor stood, far taller than she though Rose didn’t feel as if he used his height to intimidate her. His respect for her, especially after so short an acquaintance, warmed her.

“I won’t let her take you, Rose.” He cupped her cheek, voice soft and yet adamant. “I promise.”

Rose covered his hand with hers. “I believe you.” 

“Ahh, you two are so cute!” Jack sighed rather dramatically. “Why can’t I get any of that.”

Idris barked and jumped up, licking Jack’s face. Rose giggled at the sight and felt the Doctor take her hand.


	11. Chapter 11

11.  
They didn’t have to search far for Yvonne. The Doctor expected that; even with the cloaking device on Rose’s ship, or whatever she called it, Torchwood had devices to detect the abnormal energy readings coming off it.

Three tours in the army, the last years of which he worked with Torchwood—he knew them better than they knew themselves.

“Out for a walk, Jonathan?” Hartman called from where she struggled up the beach in her high heels.

The guards she brought with her continued to scan the beach, and the Doctor hoped the readings didn’t lead them back to the cottage. Hell, even if they did, they’d find nothing. He still didn’t like it. Or trust her.

Straight-faced, the Doctor waited for her to make it to the stone path that led to his cottage.

“Are you finished mucking about my village?” It actually surprised him the villagers stayed away from Hartman and her goons. He half-expected to see a group of them on the beach, staring at the guards.

Surprised him, yes, but gratified him. At least they had a little sense. That was unnecessarily mean of him to think, they were wonderful people and had accepted him into their fold despite their predilection for gossip.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Hartman looked around the empty area, eyebrow raised. “I’d love to speak with her again.”

“I suggest you leave.” He folded his arms over his chest and glared. Behind him, he felt the air shift and knew Rose and Jack had exited the cottage.

His stomach twisted. The Doctor didn’t like the hungry look in Hartman’s eyes. The way she stared at Rose. As if she knew.

Idris growled.

“Sit!” he barked at the dog.

She did so, coming to a halt by his side, but continued to growl at Hartman who had the good sense to step back. Her heels teetered on the stones.

“Aren’t there laws about keeping dogs on leads?” Hartman looked back at him, but the Doctor saw the cracks in her calm demeanor. Then her eyes landed on Rose and that predatory look returned.

“Ah, Yvonne, pleasure as always. You’re interrupting our lunch.” Jack stood on the other side of Rose, bracketing she and Idris between them.

For half his life, the Doctor thought Saxon was his best friend. He’d willfully turned a blind eye to what Harry was truly up to, believing the man’s lies and simply enjoying their down time together whenever they were both in town.

The Doctor had been wrong.

Jack Harkenss, brash American, murky past, a true lover of people, had filled the slot of best friend far better than Saxon ever had. The Doctor had never truly appreciated Jack’s friendship as much as he did in this moment.

Jack drove hours down to the Bay because the Doctor asked. Jack protected Rose—a true alien—because the Doctor asked.

He didn’t know how he’d ever thank Jack, or even tell the other man how much his friendship meant, but the Doctor needed to. Jack deserved to know.

“—I’d think you were down here trying to one up me,” Hartman was saying.

Jack grinned, but his usual charming smile held a sharpness to it Hartman seemed to see as well. “Just having lunch with friends.”

“We haven’t been properly introduced,” Rose said, inclining her head. “I’m Rose Powell, I live here with the Doctor.”

“Well, well,” Hartman murmured. “You are full of surprises, Jonathan. Pleasure to meet you, Rose.”

She crossed the stones, heels unsteady on them, and held out her hand for Rose to shake. The Doctor nudged her hand with his own, and Rose held out her hand as well, smoothly shaking Hartman’s as if she’d been raised doing so.

“I have to compliment you on your eyes, they’re stunning.”

The Doctor tensed, but Rose merely brushed it off. He probably shouldn’t find the predatory grin she gave Yvonne as sexy as he did. Felt good to feel again. To want again.

“Thank you.”

Reclaiming Rose’s hand, the Doctor waited but Hartman said nothing more.

“Sorry you must be going, Yvonne. I’d say it’s been a pleasure but we both know that’s a lie.”

“Jonathan.” She nodded and offered a strained grin to Rose. “Ms. Powell.” Her eyes flicked to Jack. “And Jack, I expect to see you back at Torchwood tomorrow morning?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” Jack’s grin was the easy going one that usually meant he was up to something.

“Don’t traipse through the flower beds,” the Doctor warned as Hartman clapped her hands and called for her guards. “Idris doesn’t like it.”

As if on cue, Idris growled. Hartman, very sensibly, skirted the group and stalked back to the street.

He waited for her guards to follow her. The three of them—four, sorry, Idris—rounded the side of the cottage and waited for all of Torchwood to climb back into the SUVs and for each of the rather obvious Torchwood vehicles to disappear down the road. Only then did he lead Rose and Idris back to the house. Jack, whistling jauntily, followed.

Once inside, he forced himself to release Rose’s hand, an action the Doctor had no idea would hurt as much as it did. He ran his free hands over his face—Rose’s touch still tingled along his palm.

Fuck.

“Do you think she found anything?” Rose toyed with her bare earlobe, and once more the Doctor wondered if she wore earrings. And what happened to them.

Idris whined and laid on the floor by Rose’s feet. The Doctor eyed his dog but shrugged. As always, Idris did what she wanted.

“No, she looked pissed.” Jack leaned against the door and closed his eyes.

“Will you be in trouble tomorrow?” Rose crouched and scratched Idris’s head. “When you see her at Torchwood, will she reprimand you?”

Jack snickered. “She doesn’t have that kind of power over me.” His voice hardened. “Not anymore.”

“Have you persuaded enough people now?” The Doctor used Jack’s words from earlier, and noticed the way his friend’s eyes lighted up.

“She does seem to be on the brink, doesn’t she.” Jack’s grin widened. “I’ll keep you posted.”

The Doctor stepped forward and hugged Jack. “Thank you, Jack.” He stepped back. “For everything.”

Emotion shifted in Jack’s eyes, awe, respect, acceptance. Friendship—and yes, even love. The Doctor saw it clearly now that he looked for it. The love of a friend, of a man who’d risk everything to help all because he’d called.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Jack wagged his eyebrows, but the Doctor swore he saw real affection there.

The Doctor scowled but Rose giggled and he supposed he couldn’t be that angry at his friend. Idris walked him to the door, where he heard Jack say goodbye to the dog and order her to watch over them. Rolling his eyes, at both Jack and Idris’s enthusiastic yelp, he turned to Rose.

And realized he had no idea what came next.

“Well.” He blew out a breath and scraped his fingers over his close-cropped hair. “It’s been an eventful day. Do you need to sleep?” He shook his head. “I’m not really sure what comes next.”

“I…” Rose hesitated.

“You’re not afraid Hartman will return, are you?” He stepped closer, hand unerringly finding hers. “She’s determined, but she’s not stupid. And from what Jack’s told me, she knows her time at Torchwood is limited—besides, Torchwood isn’t as big as they’d like to think they are.”

She offered a slight smile, more a pull of her lips than anything, but shook her head. “She respects you, I see that clearly, but more she fears you.”

The Doctor scowled; he didn’t like being reminded of the man he used to be. “Do you?” He hadn’t meant to ask that. The words just slipped out. “Do you fear me?” And his damn gob wouldn’t stop.

“No.” Rose insisted and tightened her hand around his. “I’ve met many warriors, both on and off the field of battle. Some revel in their kills. Some pretend they never happened. Some weep in dark corners for those lives they’ve taken. And some…” her voice lowered and he knew she spoke of herself. “Some hope forgiveness lives in the next breath, that with each life she’s forced to take, it’s one step closer to an end.”

He kissed her. The Doctor cupped her face and the smooth, warm skin of her cheeks burned him. Drew him into her as if she glowed with the brightest of suns. He pulled back, uncertain where the will to do so came from, and met her gaze.

“Doctor,” she breathed and his world shifted.

Rose wrapped her hands around his wrists and kissed him back. She whimpered against his lips, stepped closer, and pressed her body to his. His hands slid into her hair, the long strands soft against his calloused fingers.

“Rose.”

She shivered in his arms. “When you say my name like that, I can feel it on my skin.” Her luminescent golden eyes met his. “I have never wanted anyone the way I want you, Doctor. It scares me.” Rose wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brushed her lips over his ear. “But I want you more than I’m afraid of the newness.”

“Your wish is my command.”


	12. Chapter 12

12

Rose pressed her lips to his. Just a touch, the simplest of kisses. She pulled back and looked at him. Icy blue eyes pulled her in; the intensity, the watchful stillness tingled over her skin.

His hands settled on her hips, on the unfamiliar material covering her body. His fingers slid beneath the form-fitting tunic she wore, cool against her own skin. The Doctor tugged her closer or maybe pushed her back.

Back against the wall, his solid presence trapped her. Rose shivered, wound her arms around his neck, and pulled him closer. His lips moved hungrily over hers or maybe hers did, Rose couldn’t tell and didn’t care.

She wanted him. Wanted to feel his skin sliding against hers, wanted to taste him. Explore all he was and all he offered.

Idris barked.

The Doctor pulled back, breathing heavily, and looked at her with those beautiful, warm eyes. Idris squeezed her way between them, and demanded to be pet.

Rose crouched by the dog and scratched between her ears. Very seriously she said, “I thought you liked me.”

Idris licked her chin.

The Doctor cleared his throat and Rose stood, watching him expectantly. She couldn’t read him, had no basis for understanding his reactions.

“Moving a little fast, I guess,” he said, arms folded over his chest. “’Sides, it’s not polite to take advantage of a guest.”

Frowning, she stood straighter. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, moving fast? And how are you taking advantage?”

“Rose, you landed here this morning. It’s been—we haven’t even known each other a full day.” The Doctor watched her, studied her, and she felt his intense interest clear through her.

“Yes.” She drew the word out. “I still don’t understand.”

He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. Perhaps he had changed his mind.

Before he could answer, Rose asked, “Do you not want me? Is that it? Have you decided our kiss wasn’t to your satisfaction and changed your mind?”

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, the Doctor finally sputtered, “Changed my mind? No.” He reached for her but dropped his hands. “No, I have not changed my mind.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

He opened his mouth again then frowned. “Rose, we’ve known each other for less than a day. You don’t think sleeping together after so short a time is fast?”

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I hadn’t planned on sleeping, Doctor.”

He grinned back, eyes darkening. “Good.”

Rose rolled her shoulders. Her back itched from the absence of her swords. “You believe knowing each other for less than a sun’s cycle is…bad?”

“You don’t. It's a different morality.” He nodded, as if to himself, and added, “Get used to it or go home.” He never broke eye contact with her, and when he came to whatever conclusion he did, those beautiful, unusual eyes darkened.

“You think we need to know more about each other before enjoying sex.” Rose stepped closer, fingers brushing his. “If that is what you wish, my Doctor, then I am in agreement. But I have learned more about you since landing, know you better than many I believe. I’ve seen you help a stranger, one fallen from space, against the elements, her own ignorance, and strangers out to capture and harm her.”

“You always talk about yourself in the third person?” But that half-grin returned. Rose’s heart sped up.

“Yes.” She wrinkled her nose and gave a self-decrepitating smirk. “I am—or was—the heir to the throne.” She caught his fingers with hers and squeezed. Rose hadn’t realized how comforting it was to touch another until she, quite literally, fell into the Doctor’s life.

“I fought. Every day. Whether against Powell’s enemies, of their own making or not, or against advisors intent on proving me too weak to inherit the crown. Everyone wanted power.” She swallowed and shoved aside her anger and hurt over her father’s true self. “I’ve had several lovers, in the strictest sense of the word. We enjoyed each other in the moment, because we both knew that moment was all we had. Tomorrow, when the sun rose, might be our last day.”

“I understand that.” He grazed his fingers over her cheek, pushing several strands of hair behind her ear. “It’s like that in the military. Never know what tomorrow might bring. If you live to see it at all.”

“Yes.” She offered a smile, not in joy but in happiness he knew and understood. “You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. I consent, of my own free will. I don’t do this because you have provided me shelter, food, protection.”

“I don’t—” his face darkened, fingers curling over her shoulders. “I’m not—Rose, I don’t want you because you’re vulnerable. I want you because you’re you.”

The Doctor’s hand briefly tightened on her then fell to his sides. Rose didn’t need to see them to know he curled them into fists. His anger buffeted her, but she stood strong in the face of it. He wasn’t angry with her, but with her perception.

She was wrong. She did understand him. Could read him. It amazed her how easy she was able to now that Rose looked.

“I want you because you’re the first woman to challenge me in ages. You’re smart and funny, and even in the face of a new world with no resources, you stand tall against it.”

Perhaps not that tall, she stood at least a head shorter than the Doctor. But he never used his height to crowd her or intimidate her. A warmth stole around her heart, one quite unfamiliar.

“There are—” Rose swallowed. “You’re the first person in my entire life who has not either bowed to me, wished to see me overthrown, or wanted to use any intimacy with me to his own advantage. You’ve protected me. Helped me. And you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

He snorted. “Doubt that. Not a pretty boy, me.”

“Pretty boy?” Rose repeated the unfamiliar phrase and tilted her head. She deliberately let her tongue tease the corner of her mouth as she studied him. “No, no you’re not. You’re strong and handsome, beautiful in your own way.”

She closed the distance between them, giving him a chance to stop her. He didn’t. “And I want you.”

The Doctor crouched down until they were level. He held her gaze, hungry, wanting. Then he touched her. His strong arms circled her waist, lifted her against him.


	13. Chapter 13

13  
The Doctor didn’t sweep her off her feet. Thank the goddess, because Rose didn’t know how she’d react to that. Not that she’d ever been swept off her feet. Not something she thought she’d like, frankly. He lifted her and urged her legs around his hips. His mouth was hard on hers, bruising in the most delicious, provocative way.

Rose shuddered. Pleasure burst through her veins, hot and grasping and for the first time in her life she felt the throbbing need overwhelm her senses.

She clawed at his back, desperate to rid him of his jumper and feel his skin on hers. He danced his fingers up her bare arms, awakening her nerves. The Doctor pressed his palms to her lower back, urging her closer. He nipped at the sensitive skin just behind her ear. She shivered, and his tongue darted out, caressing the light bite. He kissed her neck, across her shoulder until she pulled back.

Rose gripped his shoulders, cheeks flushed with a dark, clawing want. She didn’t need to ask, simply knew. That same instinct to mate, to feel him sliding into her, to taste and bite and devour pounded through him.

She kissed the side of his neck, tasted his arousal there. Breathed him in and hummed in appreciation and hunger.

His eyes darkened, fingers digging into her arse. She understood. Rose whimpered, a low sound in the back of her throat, and arched into him.

“How do your people have sex?” She rocked against him, felt his delicious hardness against her, and hissed out a breath. “Martha inoculated me against all known diseases on your world. In all her research, she couldn’t find any disease transferable from my species to yours.”

The Doctor nipped her neck, below her jaw. “Planned for this eventuality, eh?”

“No.” The word stuttered out and Rose threw her head back. “Not exactly. But I’m going to live here for the rest of my life. The possibility did come up.”

“And pregnancy?”

“I’m protected against it on my end.” Rose frowned and scraped her blunt nails through the hair on the back of his head. He growled and thrust against her. Yes. “Are you not protected?”

“Haven’t even thought about sex in a while,” he admitted, nipping her lips. He kissed her long and deep, and Rose drowned in the kiss. “Hasn’t come up in even longer,” he panted then reluctantly released her, setting her on her feet and scraping his hands through his short hair. “Damn.”

Heart racing, body yearning for his, Rose held herself still. “I don’t understand.”

“We don’t have birth control for men, not like you seem to.”

Rose shook her head. “Why not? Human men are necessary for procreation, are they not?”

He gave a half-laugh and met her gaze. The blue flame burned her, even from this distance.

“Yeah. Yes, we are.” He looked toward his bedroom and frowned. “Might have a condom in there.”

Rose had heard this word, but didn’t know what it meant. When she and Martha had watched Earth movies, Human sex had not made sense. There were a lot of promises, but no real visual. Maybe they’d watched the wrong movies.

He stalked down the hallway, then cursed. Trying to calm herself, Rose followed. The Doctor had apparently cursed at a black bag left in the middle of the passageway, strategically placed so they’d either see it when they walked to the bedrooms or trip over it.

“Jack.” The word sounded like a cross between a plague and a prayer. “Hmph.” He held up a box, Rose didn’t understand it, but the Doctor looked relieved. Pleased and relieved.

“Are those condoms? And will they allow us to enjoy sex?”

Instead of answering, he kissed her. Cupped the back of her head, pressed his palm to the curve of her spine, and held her to him. Rose thought she could get lost in his kisses, as if her entire exile to Earth was worth it because of the way the Doctor kissed her.

“Beautiful,” he breathed against her mouth.

Her fingers combed through his hair, mouth hard against his. The Doctor deepened the kiss; the feel of his warm skin beneath her fingers was as arousing as the scent of him. As the feel and taste of him.

He easily lifted Rose and once more urged her legs around his waist. She expected him to press her to the wall again or enjoy her right there on the floor. The Doctor carried her to his bedroom. Rose didn’t bother looking around the room—she didn’t care about the décor. All that mattered was that she finally tugged up his jumper and exposed the smooth skin of his chest.

He undressed her, removing the unfamiliar material from her body as easily as if they’d made love a dozen times before.

She sighed and ran her fingertips over his shoulders, along his spine. Rigid scars dipped his skin, but that neither bothered nor deterred her. The Doctor cupped her face and softened his mouth against her, softened, maybe, but no less possessive.

Her breath caught. “Doctor.” Rose shivered, breath catching, fingers tightening on the nape of his neck.

“Rose.” He leaned his forehead against hers, fingers trailing along her sides. She shuddered, hips jerking against his, whimpering at the brush of him against her wetness.

“Feels like we’re compatible.”

“Fantastic.”

She kissed him again harder, nipping his bottom lip, and tasted a hint of desperation. Her fingers jerked at his trousers, quickly pushed them down, and tugged at the waistband of the close-fitting other trousers he wore. Rose forgot what Jack called them and didn’t care. Her nails grazed his skin and shoved the barrier out of the way as well. She stroked his cock, fingertips caressing him.

She teased him, ran her fingers over the head of his cock then scraped her nails down to his balls.

He shuddered against her. Cupping her arse, he lifted her hips. She breathed deeply of the heady scent of their arousal. The Doctor slid his fingers into her and Rose gasped, tilting her hips against his touch.

“Doctor,” she moaned, “Doctor.”

The Doctor pulled back and fumbled with the box he’d retrieved from the bag. She raked her nails across the small of his back and she hiked her legs higher on his waist. He touched his cock, carefully placing whatever a condom was over it. Then he entered her in one sure thrust.

She tightened around him, and he slid deeper into her heat. Her head fell back, and her breath caught. He ran his thumb over her, easily finding her pleasure, watching her with those dark, intense eyes. Her lips parted, and she breathed his name, hips meeting his with every thrust.

He thrust into her welcoming body, and Rose tasted along his shoulder, nipped his throat. He pinched her nipples, lightly biting the underneath of her breast. Rose dug her nails into his skin and knew he’d have welts there later. She didn’t care. Wanted to mark him.

The Doctor thrust harder, thumb pressing down on her. Her orgasm exploded through her, a clash of light and pleasure and roaring blood drowning out her own cries. Rose ground her hips against his hand, nonsensical words falling from her lips. She tightened around him, drawing him even deeper, and felt his control snap.

He kissed her, a sloppy, bruising kiss, and pounded into her. Rose welcomed him, held him close and felt her own orgasm build once more. Just as she cried out, the Doctor shattered in her arms, her name a cry on his lips.

Rose caught him. Or maybe he caught her.

Either way, it was beautiful.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you, [ma'am](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsbertucci/pseuds/mrsbertucci) for your beta and not just letting me slide!

The Doctor watched Rose, asleep now. They’d made love twice, enjoying each other in a way he hadn’t with anyone else. He wasn’t fanciful enough to think it was because she was Rose or an alien, but they did share traits and qualities.

Her startlingly golden eyes blinked open and met his.

“You should sleep more.” He brushed her hair off her cheeks; the long strands tangled beneath her. “Don’t know how much sleep Powellans need, but I’m sure it’s more than a few hours.”

She stretched, her supple muscles pulling and teasing him. The Doctor leaned over and kissed her shoulder, cupped her breast. He wanted to taste her, spend hours doing so until neither remembered how to move. Or wanted to.

“I’m not used to sleeping much. Never knew when the next attack would strike.” She frowned. “And the castle…it had its own dangers.”

Rose didn’t elaborate, and the Doctor didn’t push. Not tonight, not now. He slid out of bed instead, pushing past the awkwardness.

“Hungry then?” He pulled on a pair of pants and his jeans. Before buttoning them, he turned to look at her. Beautiful.

“You have such an abundance of food.” Rose shook her head in marvel. “I’ve heard of such things on my planet, but I don’t remember ever seeing fields of grain or fish in the sea. Can we walk along the water again?”

She slipped from bed and stretched again, humming in what the Doctor liked to think was contentment. She closed the distance between them and draped her arms over his shoulders, fingers teasing the back of his neck. Her naked body pressed to his, and the Doctor’s hands settled on her hips.

“We can do whatever you like.” He let his lips linger on hers. “I’m sure Idris would love to show you her favorite spots.”

Rose brightened and laughed. “I’d enjoy that, too.”

“Get dressed.” The Doctor stepped back, reluctant to leave her. “I have a coat you can wear; the beach gets cold and windy after sundown.”

He stepped out the bedroom door and Idris immediately leapt at him. The Doctor caught her, pushing her aside as she nipped at his chin. 

“I think she missed you,” Rose said, holding out her bra for help. “How do I put this on again?”

The Doctor calmed Idris down and tried to extract himself from her exuberant attention. “Crazy dog,” he muttered, but without any heat. “What would you do if I’d have closed the door, eh?”

He scratched Idris’s head, hushing her. She eventually calmed, then whined at Rose and leapt onto the bed.

“Idris!” The Doctor shouted. “Down!”

But Rose cooed and cuddled her, half dressed, and smiling widely. “Aw, there’s a sweet Idris. Miss me? Yes, there’s a good girl.”

“She’s never leaving the bed again,” the Doctor scowled. “I can see it now.”

He snatched the bra from the bed and tugged Rose up. She laughed at him and kissed the underside of his jaw. Slipping the bra over her shoulders, he tried not to think about Jack doing the same thing. The image burned in his mind’s eye.

“Did Jack help you on with this earlier?” he asked before he realized he needed to shut up.

“He showed me how to work it.” Rose looked over her shoulder and winked at him. His fingers fumbled on the clasp. “But he didn’t put it on, no.”

“Good.”

Rose laughed again, and the Doctor knew he’d give up anything for that sound, to hear her laugh like that always.

He called Idris off the bed and finished dressing himself. Grabbing his leather jacket from the hall closet, he searched for another one for Rose. He had none. Only the battered black leather jacket he currently wore.

Damn.

“I can wear one of your jumpers.” Rose shrugged and returned to the bedroom.

When she exited, she wore a maroon jumper over her own clothing. The Doctor nearly swallowed his tongue. He stood before her before he realized he moved, and kissed her hard. He’d never been one to care if a woman wore his clothing, always found it unnecessary.

Rose changed his mind.

“You can wear my clothing all the time,” he said against her mouth.

“Good to know,” she gasped, looking slightly dazed.

Satisfied, chuffed truth be told, the Doctor stepped back and took her hand. Whistling for Idris, he grabbed her lead off the hook by the rear door and clipped it on her.

Rose stood on the patio stones, eyes closed, head tilted to the sky. The sun set along the beach, casting her in shadows, and he stared, awed by her very presence, by the fact she had landed in his life. He’d known her not quite an entire day, yet the Doctor felt as if he’d known her lifetimes.

“Thank you.” Rose opened her eyes and met his. “I don’t remember if I said it, but it can’t be said enough. Thank you for finding me and taking me in. Thank you for protecting me and housing me.”

She squeezed his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. Idris, surprisingly, sat at his side and waited. The Doctor knew it wasn’t for him, but because of Rose.

“And thank you for—for—” Rose frowned but almost immediately offered that grin with her tongue teasing the corner of her lips. The Doctor stared, mesmerized. “How does one thank you for wonderful sex and understanding the need for it.”

He blinked and laughed. “Not sure anyone’s ever thanked me for that.” He shrugged and tugged her hand. “But it was pretty fantastic.”

She laughed with him, that same amazing, openly happy sound, and they walked down to the beach, Idris already straining the lead.

They walked toward the inlet where Idris liked digging up cockles. The Doctor released her lead and she went running. He led Rose along the shoreline, as she bombarded him with questions about water, beaches, tides, and marine animals.

The sun dipped lower, but neither made any move to leave. He had no idea such contentment could be found on a beach he hated with a woman he very much wanted to know better.

“I’d love to show you Powell,” she whispered. “Before, when it lived, not as I knew it.” Rose sighed and pulled away.

She walked to the waterline and the Doctor let her. He let her have a couple minutes; he knew all too well the instinctual need for solitude, for silence, for just a moment. He gave that to her, then followed. He also knew what it was like, bearing the weight of one’s past, the decisions and the consequences.

The lives.

“I’m sure it was beautiful,” he whispered and took her hand. “One day maybe you can describe it to me.”

Rose sniffed and smiled up at him. “Maybe, one day.”

The Doctor kissed her forehead then whistled for Idris. Just as his dog bounded up to him, well bounded up to Rose, he caught sight of a figure at the end of the beach. Idris, caught sight of it, too. She stiffened and growled, hackles rising.

“Idris,” he warned.

The Doctor recognized the figure. Yvonne Hartman.


	15. Chapter 15

15  
“Yvonne.” The Doctor didn’t even bother tempering his tone. “Skulking about the beach now?”

“I’m sure you know me better than that, Jonathan.” Yvonne walked, in her heels, across the sand like it was Torchwood’s polished floors. Impressive. “I’m also sure you know better than to think you could easily trick me into leaving.”

His hand tightened on Idris’s lead, but the dog only sat on the sand and growled. Rose’s hand found his, and the comfort of her touch grounded him. He’d never felt so calm, so still. It wouldn’t last, the Doctor knew that. His temper was legendary, and Yvonne knew it.

“I don’t see how I tricked you. You came, you looked, you failed, so you left.” The Doctor’s lips twitched in what might generously be called a smile. If one happened to be very generous. “Looking for aliens will get you that.”

Yvonne crossed her arms, and even in the twilight of the bay, the Doctor saw her look at Rose. He stiffened, but forced himself not to move. Physically blocking Rose from Yvonne’s gaze would only make the both of them look guilty.

“Oh, I don’t know.” A serpentine smile curved her lips, visible even in the gathering twilight. “I think I found what I’m looking for.”

Rose laughed. “You think you found me? I was not lost.”

“Hmm, no?” Yvonne stepped closer. “You have the most unusual eyes, Ms. Powell. Very striking.”

“Is that a compliment? Thank you, I shall tell my mother you approve.”

The Doctor pulled her closer then, unable not to. He’d grown very protective over Rose since her arrival earlier in the day. A day. He tried to talk himself out of the depth of emotion he felt for her, the trust and security, the simple joy he found in her company, the physical lust for her body, the yearning to know her better.

“You think you found aliens?” The Doctor kept his voice flat. “You spent too much time with Saxon and his ilk.”

Yvonne paused. “Harry was brilliant, Jonathan, and you know it. Mad, but brilliant.”

Oh, he knew it, all right. “Harry spent his life searching for aliens, not so we could make contact, but so he could steal their technology and experiment on them.”

“All for the greater good of Britain,” Yvonne snapped. “You’ve seen what’s out there, you know we’re not alone.”

“Yvonne, I’m not alone now.” The duality of his words struck the Doctor and his hand twitched around Rose’s.

“No, your pretty lady friend is standing right here, with us.”

“And you think she’s an alien.” He snorted. “Harry wasn’t the only mad one at Torchwood.”

“I’m not crazy, Jonathan.” Yvonne’s voice stayed even and held the conviction she always carried whenever she talked about her work. “And I believe your lady friend, with her unusual gold eyes, is not who she says.”

“She is standing right here,” Rose snapped. “And I’d appreciate it if you spoke to me about me, not the Doctor.”

“She’s got fire, Jonathan. You must love that.”

“Yvonne, back away.” His voice hardened, chilled, and he knew Yvonne understood what it meant. The Doctor hated that Rose had to hear it. The deadly threat, the implicit intimidation. “Now. You don’t want to tangle with me. You should know better.”

His back ached, the pull of Harry’s knife burned as if Saxon plunged it into him now, not years ago. The burn solidified, focused. The Doctor straightened, dropped Rose’s hand and tempted himself with images of dropping Idris’s lead as well and letting her attack Yvonne.

“Good night, Yvonne. I wouldn’t stay out on the beach too much longer.” He grinned and stalked a predatory step forward. “The aliens might get you.”

Rose stepped beside him and retook his hand, as if she knew the edge he danced along. Idris, still growling, promptly turned and kicked sand up at Yvonne. The Doctor hid a chuckle, but Rose laughed outright.

“Good girl, Idris,” she said around him as they walked down the beach, back to his place.

He hadn’t locked the doors—no one in Carmarthen Bay did. And his reputation as both an outsider and the few whispers he heard—or perhaps had started (maybe)—kept most people at a respectful distance. Most people, not Mrs. Davies…

The Doctor suddenly regretted that. The not locking his door, not keeping the locals away. He preferred keeping the locals away. But he didn’t trust Yvonne not to have broken into his place and searched for her prize. Despite Rose’s cloaking device, he also didn’t put it past Yvonne to have a machine to detect the frequency of the ship’s cloak.

Hell. The Doctor ran a hand over his shorn hair, down his face. Bloody hell. What a mess. 

“I put you in danger.” Rose’s words barely carried to him even as she walked beside him. “I’m sorry. I thought when Jack left, and she and her team departed earlier, I was in the clear.”

Rose stopped and looked up at him. He barely made out her features in the quickly fading light, but knew the look of a guilty soldier when he saw one. Or heard one in this case.

“It’s not your fault.” The Doctor pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Yvonne is like a dog with a bone, tenacious she is.”

“Don’t insult Idris,” Rose snapped and pulled back. He felt her glare, but heard a faint laugh in there, too.

“You didn’t put me in any more danger than I bargained for.” He sighed and picked up their pace. Yvonne didn’t follow them, he knew that for a fact, but he couldn’t see too deep in the shadows—her guards and black-clad scientists might lurk on the beach, waiting for them.

“Idris.” He tugged lightly on her lead. “Be watchful, old girl.”

Idris gave a soft yelp in agreement.

They finished their previously pleasant walk in silence, carefully trudging up the stone garden of his house in near total darkness. Outside the back door, he let Idris off her lead. She sniffed and growled, completing her perimeter walk in record time.

The Doctor braced himself, and pushed open the door. Nothing. No guns, no soldiers, no guards or scientists, or any sign of Torchwood. Nothing looked touched, as if greedy hands searched for alien life. Every chair, kitchen appliance, and crumb looked in the same place as when they left.

That actually surprised him—Yvonne wasn’t one to waste chances, and them being out of the house provided her with the perfect chance to search it.

“The door is still closed.” Rose jerked her head in the direction of the second bedroom as she closed the back door. Pausing she looked at it and fiddled with the lock.

“I have a key for the deadbolt.” The Doctor reached up and grabbed the key atop the ledge, the one he never used during the day, and flicked the deadbolt locked. “Not that it’ll stop Torchwood or Yvonne.”

“Do many of your people trust so much they don’t lock their doors?” Rose let out a breath and shook her head. “This world is so different from mine.”

“It’s your world now, too, Rose.” The Doctor settled his hands on her shoulders. “Best remember that.”

“Yeah.” She met his gaze, her beautiful golden eyes somber on his. Her hands curled around his wrists, cool from outside, slightly damp from the bay. “I best.”

“You don’t believe it.” He dropped his hands and turned for the kitchen. Idris, as patient with Rose as she was not with him, waited by her bowl. “You’re thinking of running.”

The Doctor almost snorted. That was his job. 

“I put you in danger. I had not realized—when I chose Earth, I thought only of myself. I didn’t want to go to the Bavagarie Mines. I wanted to live.”

She didn’t say, didn’t have to. Whatever they mined on Bavagarie, it was worse than hell. The Doctor paused in scooping Idris’s food and met Rose’s gaze. The haunted, scared look disappeared from her face the instant she realized he watched her.

He saw it anyway.

“Rose.” He stood and let Idris have at her food. “I told you earlier I’d protect you. No one deserves what Torchwood would do to them. No one.”

“Not even Harry?”

The Doctor snarled, but caught himself. She deserved to know at least part of that story. “There’s a saying on Earth. Well, in English. There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. Harry often straddled that line. I hadn’t realized he crossed it until it was too late.”

“Hartman funded his research?” Rose swallowed hard but didn’t otherwise show her clear unease.

“She’s a big picture woman.” The Doctor sighed, but the muscles in his back still tensed. “Doesn’t matter who gets hurt, who gets stomped on, so long as her goals are met.” His hands clenched at his sides. “There are people in the government who share her twisted vision.”

“I’m sorry.” Rose closed the distance between them and took his hand. “I don’t want to put you in danger, but I’m glad I met you.”

He grinned and pulled her into his arms. “I’m glad I met you, too.”


	16. Chapter 16

16  
Later, the cottage locked up, barefoot and clad only in his jeans, the Doctor emerged from the bathroom. Idris lay at the foot of the bed and Rose sat cross-legged beside her in only his jumper. What a domestic sight. Idris, who knew better than to try and get on the bed, lifted her large head, blinked lazily at him, and rested it back on Rose’s leg.

“I’m sorry.” Rose didn’t look up, but he saw the grin anyway. “It’s just easier to pet her up here, and she wanted a cuddle.”

“Hmm.” He eyed his dog who shifted closer to Rose. “I’m sure she did.”

“I also—” she cleared her throat and continued to stare at Idris, her hand methodical down the dog’s side— “I didn’t know if you wanted me to sleep in here.”

“Of course.” The Doctor agreed before he thought it through. Jack’d have a field day, teasing him about this.

The great Doctor, fallen in a day.

He didn’t mind.

“I—no, it’s fine.” He shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do with his hands. The Doctor crossed them over his chest and planted his feet. Instead of speaking to his lover, he felt as if he stood in front of Alistair as his commander dressed him down.

Alistair would also have a field day if he knew. He and Jack…best not think on it.

“Been a while since I’ve slept in the same bed as anyone.”

Rose looked up at that, eyes wide and vulnerable. Less than twenty-four hours and he read her so easily. He wondered if she read him as easily. The Doctor also wondered where his hard exterior shell disappeared to.

“I’ve never slept in the same bed as a man. Martha and I used to sleep in the same bed, but that was a very long time ago.”

The back of his neck heated but the Doctor plunged ahead. “I’m game if you are.”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed and her chin lifted. The smile Rose gave him, with her tongue teasing the corner, settled heat low in his gut. Damn, but he’d never wanted a woman with the same relentless need as he wanted her.

The Doctor crossed the room to the bed before he made the conscious decision to move. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her. Rose hummed and shifted, kneeling to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer.

Idris yipped, but the Doctor ignored her. He felt the bed shift as the dog leaped off, but only pressed Rose backward, down onto the mattress.

“I’ve never wanted a man the way I want you.” Rose tracked a finger along his cheek, over his ear, down his neck. “You make me feel safe, Doctor.”

Before he even thought about replying, she kissed him again, tongue teasing his, hands gliding down his mangled back. Rose didn’t ask about the scars, she didn’t linger over them, merely spread her legs to cradle his hips and nipped his neck.

“Have any more of those condoms?”

****  
Rose dozed, that in between stage of waking and sleeping. Warm, safe, comfortable for the first time in longer than she could remember, she burrowed beneath the blankets. Her mind, vigilant and awake, listened for sounds of fighting, screams of the dying, babies wailing; the sounds of a dying civilization.

All she heard was the Doctor moving around his bedroom with ease.

“Doctor?” She lifted her head and looked around the dark room.

They’d made love again last night, his warmer body easily moving with hers. Rose shivered even now and wanted him again. Her hands slid down her belly as his had, between her legs. His large hands had cradled her hips and arse, his mouth had tasted down her body and brought her to climax twice before he had entered her.

Rose slipped her fingers into her slick heat and let out a shaky breath. She hummed a little, imagining his fingers in her, his mouth on her.

“Ah-ahh, none of that.” The Doctor grinned and pulled her hand from between her legs. He kissed her wet fingers, sucking the tips clean. “Not until I get back.”

“Better hurry,” she shot at him, cupping the back of his head and tugging him down. “Wouldn’t want to start without you.”

“Go back to sleep, Rose.” He kissed her, a soft press that made her smile up at him. “I’m taking Idris for a run.”

“I’ll join you.” Rose pushed the blankets back, alert and ready.

“No.” Even in the darkness, she saw his grin—it matched the amusement in his voice. “We’ll be quick. I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave you any more than I do.”

Rose’s heart skipped. “Oh.” She cleared her throat and fought not to reply with sappy nonsense. “Hurry back, then.”

And apparently it slipped out anyway.

“I intend to.” The Doctor kissed her again.

He didn’t turn on a light, easily walking around the dark room as if he never bothered with a light. Perhaps he didn’t. Rose didn’t need one; she clearly saw the layout as if the sunlight filtered into the room, making it glow. Huh, perhaps she had superior vision to Humans.

Humans not the Doctor, who acted as if the brightest sunlight shone in the room.

One of many things she’d have to learn of this world and these people.

Fully awake now, Rose climbed from bed and wandered into the bathroom. She fiddled with the handles in the wall until the water streamed from the mechanism further up. Fascinated, amazed at such free-flowing water, she striped off the Doctor’s shirt and climbed in.

Cool water flowed over her, and Rose grabbed the soap and quickly washed. Refreshed, cleaner than she’d been in ages, Rose stepped from the wonderful marvel and back into the bedroom. Jack had purchased several clothes for her, but Rose preferred the Doctor’s jumpers.

She left the bra, an odd contraption she found more uncomfortable than her usual uniform, and slipped a soft blue jumper over her head. Tugging on the knickers—she didn’t understand the word but knew the purpose—she pulled on her jeans. Sitting on the bed, impossibly large and empty in the quiet cottage, Rose pulled on her thick socks and the boots Jack picked out for her.

Amazed he knew her size of these premade items, Rose shrugged and braided her still-wet hair. The length had always before been a sign of pride. Princess Rose of Powell had never been defeated in battle.

Now, missing Martha, her home, a never-expected second chance with the mother she didn’t know, and even Mickey, Rose hated her hair. A sign of things no longer relevant in her life, of a past she wished to leave behind, her hair weighed her down in a way it physically hadn’t before.

Perhaps when the Doctor returned, she’d ask him to help her cut it.

Humming a tune she and Martha enjoyed as children, Rose wandered to the kitchen and the abundance of food in the cold box. The bland rations the castle survived on didn’t require keeping cool, though Rose had heard stories from ‘before’ about the meats and cheeses, the wines and beers the people enjoyed.

Her fingers dug into the smooth door handle until it cracked. Rose squeezed her eyes closed against the rage. Burning hot, it choked her, a seething ball of impotent anger. Her father, her greedy father who already had so much—family, wife, physical riches and an abundance of food, who ruled the majority of the land—he had ruined it all.

And he’d exiled her. Sent his only child to another planet in another galaxy with no hope of ever seeing her again. No desire to see her again.

Rose clenched her jaw against the scream building in her chest.

An odd tingling jerked her from her anger and helpless hopelessness. She pushed away from the box and wandered the cottage, searching for the sound. She’d heard that before, yesterday when Jack communicated with the Doctor.

His mobile, he called it. Rose found it in the sitting area. Jack’s face grinned cheekily back at her and she pressed the green button that said answer.

“Yes?”

A pause. “Rose?”

“Yes. Jack? The Doctor is—”

“Yvonne is on her way. I finally spoke to Alistair, and it’s in motion, but she’s not going down without a fight.”

“We shall be prepared.”

“Do whatever you have to do to stay safe.” Jack’s voice faded slightly, then returned full force. “I’m on my way.”

The communication died, and Rose stared at the mobile. She tucked it into her back pocket and walked to the rear door. The Doctor had said he wouldn’t be long, but Rose had no idea what that meant.

Of all the things she anticipated upon arriving on Earth, the differences in telling time hadn’t been one.

She opened the door and stared into the predawn mist. A sharp bay breeze cut through her, but Rose stood against the mild discomfort. She walked across the rocks, searching the beach for any sign of the Doctor or Idris.

Even her superior sight couldn’t find them.

“Looks like the little lost girl is all alone.” Yvonne Hartman’s voice echoed behind her, and Rose slowly turned.

Cursing her lack of weapons, her lack of foresight, she also wondered how a woman who wore such impractical shoes managed to sneak up on her. Apparently, Hartman possessed untapped skills.

“I think it’s time we had a chat, Rose Powell, who doesn’t exist in any database.”


	17. Chapter 17

17  
The Doctor nearly turned back twice, but Idris wanted a run, so they ran. He hated leaving Rose, worried despite Yvonne’s leaving and Jack’s assurances. It slithered down his back, the unease, the worry.

_Don’t leave Rose. Don’t leave her alone._

“Idris.” He pulled to a halt and waited while the dog finished her business. He scooped it up, hastily tying the bag, and tugged her lead. “Let’s get home to Rose.”

The dog cocked her head and stared at him as if she had no idea who Rose was. Confused, and doubly worried now, the Doctor spun on his sneaker and turned for home. He pulled Idris along for the first couple paces, then she seemed to remember Rose and they ran full out.

No light shone on the beach, the sun barely cracked the thick fog. He pulled Idris’s lead and raced for the cottage. Chest tight, lungs aching, his heart beat a steady tattoo— _find Rose. Protect Rose. Keep Rose safe._

The harder they ran, the more it felt as if they’d never make it. Suddenly Idris lunged, tearing the lead from his hand and sprinting ahead. For one heart-stuttering moment, the Doctor froze. Then he tore after Idris.

Rose was in danger.

Finally, finally the light from the cottage beckoned him, warm and welcoming. But the rear door sat open, empty. Rose didn’t stand on the stones, waiting for him. No one did.

“Rose?”

No answer.

His heart stopped, and the Doctor turned to Idris. “Where is she, old girl?”

Idris’s ears perked, and she raced around the house. The Doctor followed, not bothering to close the door. They hadn’t gone far when he heard it. Fighting. The Doctor ran down the street, still quiet and asleep, around a corner and down that street, too.

Rose fought two Torchwood guards. Yvonne stood off to the side, impeccably dressed in the abandoned alleyway, waiting. It only took the Doctor a second to see she waited with a syringe, clearly a knockout drug of some sort, ready to inject Rose.

It didn’t matter he had no idea if Rose’s physiology could withstand any Earth drug, or if Yvonne’s drug was even Earth made. All that mattered was saving Rose.

The Doctor growled and leaped. Idris followed. She attacked one of the guards, leaving Rose the other. The Doctor spared a glance for the fools, admired the gracefulness with which Rose moved, and whirled for Yvonne.

“You shouldn’t have returned, Yvonne.”

“Jonathan.” Her voice quavered, just the slightest. “What an unpleasant happenstance.”

“I warned you then, Yvonne. When Harry turned.” He stalked forward, a part of him thrilled when Yvonne stumbled back a step. Terrified. “I warned you not to come after me. Leave me, my family, my loved ones, alone.”

“This woman isn’t—”

“Yvonne.” The Doctor reached out, hands flexing. Even in the darkness, the bare streetlight that tried desperately to illuminate the alley, he saw Yvonne pale and flinch. “Rose is with me. In fact, the entirety of this planet is with me if it keeps you away from them.”

Yvonne opened her mouth but wisely closed it again.

“Doctor.” Rose’s voice, breathless but unharmed, carried on the wind, a tendril of sanity. “Doctor, don’t.”

Idris, whining slightly, returned his side. The Doctor didn’t even acknowledge her. Rose, silent as always, appeared at his side and rested her hand on his back, just below the scars from Harry’s knife.

“I’m a second chance kind of man, Yvonne,” he said smoothly. Neither missed the deadly threat in his tone. The warning. His last warning. “Give me the syringe, turn on your pretty heels, and leave. Now.”

“I am the head of Torchwood—”

“Not anymore.” Jack’s voice cut through the predawn. “Yvonne Hartman, you’re under arrest.”

“You can’t arrest me, Jack.” Yvonne whirled, furiously stalking to the mouth of the alley. “As head of Torchwood, I have immunity from—”

“Not anymore.” The Doctor blinked in surprise when Alistair appeared beside Jack. “You’ve been stripped of all immunity, of rank, of status, of position. No one should have that kind of power, Ms. Hartman, and you’ve abused yours for far too long.”

“I’m protected by a special decree from Her Majesty Herself!” Yvonne seethed, head thrown back, defiant as always.

“And Her Majesty has just rescinded that.” Jack held up a paper. In the streetlight, the Great Seal of the Realm of Her Majesty, Elizabeth the Second, Queen of the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand and the Commonwealth unmistakably blazed.

“Alistair!” Yvonne seethed, voice cracking.

“Colonel Mace.” Alistair turned to the man beside him, looking very smart in his uniform, and staring in awe at the Doctor. “If you will.”

Mace saluted and gestured for the soldiers beside him. “Yvonne Hartman, you are under arrest for violation of Acts 12, 75, and 152 of the Torchwood Agreement. You are charged with…”

The Doctor stopped listening. He struggled to control his breathing, the wrath that choked him. Rose’s cooler hand found his, but he flinched away as if it burned him.

“Doc.” Jack stepped into the shadows. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Thanks, Jack.” His voice, an empty, bland thing, barely reached his ears.

“I’ll see she’s taken care of,” he promised. “She’ll be kept under 24-hour security, away from dangerous weapons and sharp objects, and brought to trial. We can’t keep Torchwood a secret, not any longer.”

The Doctor raised his gaze and met Jack’s worried one. “Thanks, Jack,” he repeated. “For everything.”

Jack looked as if he wanted to say more, but clapped him on the shoulder instead. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Jonathan.” Alistair looked worried, but the Doctor ignored it. “Introduce me to your friend Jack’s told me all about?”

“Rose.” The Doctor cleared his throat and worked moisture into his mouth.

His muscles bunched, tense and coiled, his heart ached, and his gut felt hollow. Empty. He left all that behind, the anger, the focused rage. It wasn’t Rose’s fault it boiled within him now, she had landed exactly where she needed to be.

He hated himself, the ease with which he fell back into old habits. How easily he grasped old anger and used it against others.

“Brigadier General Alistair Lethbridge-Steward, Princess Rose of Powell.”

“Rose Powell,” Rose corrected and offered the complicated greeting she’d given Jack. “A pleasure to meet you, Brigadier General.”

“Alistair, please, my dear.” He held out his hand, but the Doctor watched as if through the fog that blanketed the beach.

Yvonne’s two guards were carried away on stretchers, but the Doctor didn’t bother with their injuries. He dropped his hand to Idris, who leaned against him and licked his palm. Several cars pulled away and the area quieted.

“Let’s go home, Doctor.” Rose stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Alistair and Jack, of Torchwood’s mess and his friends’ rescue and cleanup. “Let’s go home.”


	18. Chapter 18

18  
Hand-in-hand, Rose carefully led the Doctor back to the house. Idris, subdued and limping slightly, walked beside him. She whined and nudged his knee every few steps, but the Doctor didn’t seem to realize she was even there.

They finally reached the cottage just as the sun broke through the fog. Rose shivered and tugged the Doctor’s jumper closer around her. He didn’t acknowledge her, despite their joined hands. Closing the back door behind them, Rose locked it as he’d shown her last night.

Face pale and drawn, eyes vacant, the Doctor walked into the kitchen and stared at the counter. Rose’s heart skipped, and she frantically searched for the words that’d break him out of this spell.

She had nothing. No idea what was wrong, no idea what to do. Maybe she should’ve invited Jack back, he’d know what to do or say. Even Alistair, who seemed more than a commander to the Doctor.

But no, it was her and Idris and a cloaked spaceship.

Rose turned the coffeepot on and looked around the kitchen. She fed Idris while the coffeemaker made coffee, however that happened, and felt about as out of her depth as she had when she discovered the truth about her father.

“I fought ever day,” she finally said. “I trained from birth to lead the emperor’s armies, to take over the throne.” Rose tore her unseeing gaze from the coffee to the Doctor, but he still didn’t acknowledge her. “I never knew another life. Martha was my only friend, the only person I trusted in the castle.”

Idris silently finished her food and walked to the Doctor. She didn’t fuss for a treat, but nudged his hand until it dropped to her head. Rose frowned—even the dog knew something was wrong with the Doctor. She wished Idris could tell her what or how to fix it.

Even as she thought that, Rose knew there’d be no ‘fixing’. Pain like the Doctor’s, Rose knew and understood. It wasn’t a matter of fixing but of understanding. Healing.

“The anger I felt—still feel—over my father’s betrayal.” It choked her even now. “He lied to me about everything. I fought and killed innocent people because of his greed and lies.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” The Doctor’s words shocked her. Rose blinked, her fury at her father disappearing in her concern for the Doctor. “In your heart, you fought for a noble cause. Being lied to about that cause doesn’t make you evil.”

He turned, hand still on Idris’s head, and met her gaze. The ice blue froze Rose to the spot but also warmed her. Understood in a way she wanted him to know she understood.

“When you discovered the truth, you did the right thing. That’s what counts, Rose. Doing the right thing.”

“You don’t think you did the right thing,” she challenged. “Why?”

“I’m not a good man, Rose.” He dropped his eyes to Idris, who looked adoringly up at him. When he met her gaze again, Rose saw the loathing she saw whenever she looked in the mirror. “I killed.”

“So have I.”

His lips twisted, a flash of hot anger in his cold expression. “You fought a war, one you believed in.”

“Why did you fight?” Rose kept her voice even, curious. Yes, of course she wanted to know, but she knew the sort of loathing that twisted through the Doctor. Felt it every day.

He closed his eyes. “I don’t know.” He sighed and looked to Idris. “Not anymore.”

“You stood up to Saxon, yeah?” The Doctor raised his gaze to hers, but didn’t respond. Rose swallowed and nodded. She understood this, too. “You stood up to Hartman.”

Rose hadn’t realized she moved to his side until she felt the Doctor’s hand in hers. He met her gaze, the hard, vacant look that broke her heart. Idris whined and nudged their joined hands, as if she wanted to be a part of it, too.

“I never wanted you to see me like that.” His voice broke and her hand tightened around his. “I never wanted to be that man again.”

“We can’t change who we were or what we did.” Rose swallowed the lump in her throat, but it refused to dislodge. “Martha told me that when we realized what—the truth.” She swallowed again, throat aching. “We can only move forward better for what we’ve learned.”

“Thought I had.” The Doctor huffed a breath and grimaced. “Thought I put that behind me.”

“I—just because you’re not that man any more doesn’t mean it doesn’t stay with you.” Rose pulled him to the relaxation area—she forgot what he called it, but knew it wasn’t a sitting room—and onto the couch.

He sat, but didn’t look at her. He stared straight ahead, refusing to see either her or Idris. The dog, clearly not one to be ignored, leaped onto the couch and plopped her head on the Doctor’s lap. If Idris wasn’t allowed on the bed, Rose didn’t see how she’d be allowed on the couch, and yet, the Doctor rested his large, capable, gentle hand on Idris’ neck and closed his eyes.

“You don’t—what you did in the past, who you were is what made you the man you are today.” Rose swallowed and willed back tears. She missed home, Martha and Mickey, a chance to know her mum. Even the man she thought her father was. Before.

“I’m not the same person I was before I discovered my father’s lies.” She sniffed, the tears of loneliness not as willed away as she’d hoped. “Who you were before, whoever that man was, he made the man I see before me. The one who took in a stranger, one from another planet at that, and protected her.”

The Doctor finally met her gaze, strong and clear.

Rose’s lips tilted up and she sat on the sofa beside him. “You stood up for me when you didn’t know anything about me.” She took his hand and held it between hers. “You took me into your house, fed me, hid me, helped me. That’s the kind of man you are, Jonathan Noble.”

“I don’t feel like that kind of man.” His whispered words choked from him. “All I feel is the hate and rage, it burns inside me, a seething pit of black.” The Doctor shook his head. “I barely feel like a man at all.”

“You are,” Rose shot back. She sat straighter in her conviction and squeezed his hand. “You’re the strongest man I know. The bravest, the kindest. You do what’s right, and that’s something not everyone wants to do, let alone tries to do.”

Rose took a deep breath and bared all of her for him. “And even though it’s been only a single one of your days, I know you better than I knew anyone on Powell. I trust you more than I even trust Martha.”

The Doctor faced her, and Rose leaped. Or fell. Or both. But she hoped he’d catch her.

“And I think I’m falling in love with you.”


	19. Chapter 19

19  
The Doctor stared. He opened his mouth, but no words emerged. Not even incoherent sounds. He wanted to say how it’d been a day. They’d known each other such a short amount of time. And didn’t even know each other all that well.

Lie.

“I know you better than I know a great many of the people I consider friend.” The words surprised him, but they didn’t stop. “Jack and Alistair are the only people beside Hartman who know the true extent of what Saxon did, but even they—”

His back ached, but the Doctor pushed that pain, phantom or otherwise, away. No, not pushed, but eased away. With Rose’s understanding, with her soft touch. A day. Huh. 

“People I’ve known my whole life…Donna.” His hand clenched around Idris’s head and he forced his fingers to relax. Idris lifted her head and licked his palm then huffed and flopped back onto his lap.

They’d need to have serious words about her on the sofa, but the Doctor already knew he’d lose that argument. He also had a feeling Rose’d be on Idris’s side.

“My cousin and I used to be close, we grew up together. Right terrors we were in the neighborhood.” The Doctor cleared his throat and wondered if maybe he ought to reach out to Donna. Not that she’d taken the trip down to Carmarthen Bay, but maybe it was time to mend whatever happened to their friendship.

“She knows less about me than you do in a day.”

Rose knelt in front of him and took his hands. Idris whimpered, and Rose shushed her, setting their joined hands on her side.

“We are alike,” Rose whispered. “I’ve never met anyone I wanted to talk to—” she licked her lips and he wanted to kiss her— “that I want to share things with like I do you.”

“I’m so glad I met you,” he confessed.

Rose smiled—a slow, soft smile that grew until she beamed at him. “Yeah?” She leaned up and pressed her lips to his. “Me, too.”

The Doctor laughed and the weight he carried on his shoulders for—forever, eased. It didn’t disappear, but he didn’t expect it to in one conversation or even a single day.

“I’d say we’re in this together,” he admitted and didn’t feel any burden. “Guess you’ll have to get a job.”

Rose’s eyes widened and she laughed. “Suppose I will, huh.” She frowned and titled her head. “What job do you do?”

The Doctor snickered. “I sit around with Idris all day.”

Rose nodded as if she believed him. “And is this a common form of employment?”

He laughed, a loud, free sound that loosened something in him. “No, it’s not a form of employment at all.” Rose frowned again, and he chucked again. “Torchwood gave me money after the Saxon incident and I’ve lived off that.”

Mouth open, but no sound emerging, Rose nodded in shock.

“I’m sure I can talk to Jack and Alistair, they’d be thrilled to have me back.” The Doctor eyed her shrewdly. “You, too, if you want.”

“I—I don’t know. I don’t understand the forms of employment available on Earth.” She paused and sat back on her heels. “However, I’d love working with you.”

The Doctor’s grin widened. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rose said firmly. “Better with two, eh?”

He leaned forward and caught her lips, kissing her softly, gently. Rose sighed and sat up, winding her arms around his neck and scratching her blunt nails along the back of his neck.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Definitely better with two.” Idris barked and butted between them. “Or three,” the Doctor amended.

Rose giggled and scratched beneath Idris’s chin. “Definitely better with three, Idris. We can’t forget you!”

“You know.” The Doctor pulled Rose onto the sofa and she curled against him. “When I woke up yesterday, I didn’t expect my life to change. Thought I’d take Idris for a run, we’d come back here, I’d have to fight off Mrs. Davis’s constant attempts at seduction, and nothing’d change.”

“When Martha helped me into the pod, everything changed.” Rose sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “My whole life changed, I left everything I knew behind and set the coordinates for a planet I knew very little about.”

“Least you’re not a Lilliputian and can breathe the air,” the Doctor laughed. “Could be worse.” Rose pulled back and frowned up at him. “I’ll explain Jonathan Swift later,” he promised. “We have plenty of time.”

Her lips pressed to his and she hummed. “All the time in the world.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @goingtothetardis who wanted:  
> Christmas prompt!! How about one for your Alien!Rose fic? Maybe after the hubbub with TW has calmed down, Rose notices the decorations and stuff in town and asks about it. The Doctor doesn't usually celebrate the holidays, but Rose is interested and Jack keeps pestering him, and maybe just the once he can indulge a little holiday spirit?? Or something like that. Your call. ;) Please and thank you. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks and love to Mrs. Bertucci for her invaluable beta help. Thank you for everything, hun!
> 
> This is the end, it's been a wonderful journey and I've had so much fun writing this story! Special thanks to @rose--nebula for the manip that started it all!

Christmas:

For @goingtothetardis who wanted:  
Christmas prompt!! How about one for your Alien!Rose fic? Maybe after the hubbub with TW has calmed down, Rose notices the decorations and stuff in town and asks about it. The Doctor doesn't usually celebrate the holidays, but Rose is interested and Jack keeps pestering him, and maybe just the once he can indulge a little holiday spirit?? Or something like that. Your call. ;) Please and thank you. <3

“Doctor!” Rose called as she closed the front door behind her. “Why is Viola stringing brightly colored lights over her bushes?”

The Doctor walked out of the kitchen, barefooted despite the cold morning, jumper sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a tea towel over his shoulder. Rose forgot all about Viola Davies and the strange lights on her bushes, and dropped her bag on the floor. Some part of her realized how spectacularly bad that idea was, what with Idris sniffing at the food, but Rose didn’t care.

She crossed the cottage and leaped into the Doctor’s arms, snogging him for all he was worth.

“Hmm.” The Doctor pulled back slightly, brilliant blue eyes slightly unfocused. “What was that for?”

Rose grinned and pecked him on the lips. “I missed you.”

He laughed and set her on the floor. His hands trailed down her sides and cupped her bum. “I missed you, too.” The Doctor kissed her again, a slow, deep kiss that heated her blood and curled her toes.

“Um…” Rose’s knees gave out and she blinked up at the Doctor.

“What were you saying?” His voice, the low timber of it, caressed her skin and chased a shiver up her spine.

“Huh?” Rose shook her head and glared at the Doctor. He did that on purpose, teased her until she lost all thought. “Lights. When I walked back from the market, Viola Davis was draping lights over her bushes.”

Rose did not expect the shuttered look to close off his expression or the Doctor to drop his hands from her arse. “Doctor?”

“It’s the holidays,” he said in a flat voice she hadn’t heard from him in months. 

Not since Torchwood and Yvonne Hartman, and his fear of losing himself to the darkness. Her instinct was to reach out and grab his hand, hold him steady and ground him to her. Rose hesitated.

“Holidays?” she asked and licked her lips. “Are you celebrating a great battle?”

Even as she said it, Rose knew that wasn’t the case. She had a vague memory of leaning about Earth holidays. It involved lights and presents and music. Her heart leaped, and Rose wondered if the Doctor knew some of the songs, she’d very much like to learn them. However, she kept her hopes to herself and let the Doctor speak in his own time.

Idris, ever the faithful dog, knew when her master needed her, and left her perusal of the shopping to nudge the Doctor’s hand. His fist relaxed, and he automatically rested his palm on Idris’s head. The dog whimpered and shifted closer, as if to offer whatever comfort she could.

“Christmas,” the Doctor said, the word short and clipped. “Not much for celebrating the holidays, me.” His eyes met hers and she thought she saw a sliver of hope.

Rose grasped that with both hands, and took his free hand in hers. “What do you celebrate?” she asked quietly.

“Peace, love, joy, good tidings and all that rubbish.” He stopped and pressed his lips together. “Maybe not rubbish. I don’t know.” He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. “Donna throws a huge Christmas Eve party every year.”

“And you—is this something you don’t wish to attend?” Rose swallowed against a dry throat, and wondered what she stepped in with her seemingly innocent question. If she knew the pain it’d give him, she would’ve asked Viola herself, despite the other woman’s penchant to prattle.

“Me? I prefer to stay in.” The Doctor met her gaze again. “Jack sometimes comes down.” His gaze drifted to the kitchen and the small table there. “He brings the best whiskey he can find.”

Her heart sank but Rose nodded. “Is this how you wish to spend this holidays?”

The Doctor had that look on his face, like he was about to correct her on some Earth point she didn’t understand, but then he straightened.

“No.”

“No?” Her lips twitched, and Rose tilted her head. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, Rose Powell—” he pulled her close and spun her slightly— “we’re going to get a tree.” The Doctor frowned. “We’ll start with a tree, a nice pre-lighted one, and maybe a decoration or two.”

Rose laughed and draped her arms over his shoulders. “And Jack?”

“He can come for Christmas, but at night,” the Doctor growled, “you’re mine.”

“Doctor, I’m yours every day,” Rose reminded him.

“Yes,” he whispered in all seriousness. “You are. You hold my heart, Rose, my soul. I love you.”

Rose hugged him close, letting the warmth of his body ease through her own lonely coldness. “And I love you, my Doctor. More than you realize, I think.”

Idris barked, and nudged them. Rose giggled and crouched beside the dog, letting her lick her face and pulling the Doctor down to the floor with them.

“I love you, too, Idris,” Rose promised. “You’re part of our family.”


End file.
